Worm - Waterworks
by SeerKing
Summary: Taylor Triggers with the power of Hydrokinesis. She will wash away those who stand before her. Alt!Power! Taylor. Worm belongs to Wildbow. TaylorxLisaxAmy. Now has a TVTropes Page!
1. Drop 1-1

**Edit 10/04/16: Beta'd by becauzitswrong.**

"Damn you Sophia!" - Speech

 _'Why Emma?_ ' - Thought

 **Drop 1.1**

 **+++Taylor+++**

 _Brockton Bay General Hospital_

I hate my life.

Not something unexpected when coming from a teenager, but nonetheless not something you want to hear. Or think.

Being the girl known as Taylor Hebert for the last fifteen months sucked ass. I had wished countless times to be someone different, but nothing seemed forthcoming. I had had my best friend since before kindergarten stolen from me, turned against me somehow by the person who had been the bane of my existence ever since.

Sophia Hess. Star of the Winslow Track team. She, along with Emma Barnes, my ex-best friend, and Madison Clements, the obligatory 'cute' girl, had seemed bent upon making my life a living hell from which I could not awaken or escape.

To say I was bullied would be like saying Hurricane Katrina had made New Orleans a little wet. I had been knocked down stairs, had my homework stolen, ruined or destroyed, been hurt emotionally and, just to put the icing on the cake, had the severe displeasure of being locked inside a fucking locker full of used tampons, pads and other filth that had been left to rot and ferment over the Christmas Break.

I couldn't say for sure that it was Sophia or one of the others that had pushed me in, because everyone at the school, staff included, seemed to be jumping on the bandwagon of 'let's try and make Taylor commit suicide.'

I had been pushed inside my locker and stuck there for two entire days, thanks to a power outage at the school. Covered in filth and bugs to the point that even thinking about it now made me want to hurl. The janitor had found me and called an ambulance. Oddly enough, there had been a series of burst pipes at the school, which meant it was still closed. That had been a week ago, during which time I had been in a coma, only waking up yesterday.

My father, Daniel 'Danny' Hebert, had been relieved beyond belief when I had woken up and told him everything. Told him of Emma's betrayal, of everything that the Trio had done to me and how the staff at the school had seemed to just ignore it or accuse me of being an attention seeking brat when I complained.

Dad had wanted to sue the ones responsible, but Alan Barnes was a high-priced lawyer specializing in divorce cases, but he could and would ruin us to protect Emma from any harm my accusations would garner. I had, very reluctantly, convinced him not to do anything but instead make a deal with Principal Blackwell.

The deal was as follows: One, I was to be assigned a new locker elsewhere. Two, I was to be given a reasonable amount of recompense for what I had gone through, as well as money to replace my schoolbooks, which had been in the mess that was my locker. Three, in exchange for the above concessions, Dad wouldn't have every out of work member of the Union come down and picket the school. It wasn't an idle threat as there were probably at least a couple of hundred guys who owed him a favour. He could probably have thirty or more guys at any given time. That, plus telling Principal Blackwell he would then contact he media to see what they thought of the picket, proved too much for the woman. It seemed possibly that she wouldn't want the Board of Education taking an interest in her school if all of this triggered an investigation.

Naturally, Principal Blackwell was angry at being blackmailed, at least according to my dad, but she did give in earlier today. Dad was pretty smug about it getting everything I'd asked for. I had the feeling that he'd even asked for more money that I'd told him I needed, but I guess I couldn't begrudge him that, especially since he'd missed some work with me being in the hospital.

He had to get back to his job at the Dockworkers Union, but had promised to visit me after work, which I had tried to shoot down, given how tired he was after working all day, but he had insisted.

So here I was, getting poked and prodded physically and mentally by doctors, nurses and psychologists. I swear that one nurse took great delight in drawing my blood as often as she could. Worse, I was going to be doing physical therapy for a while before I was released, or so the nurses told me. Joy.

I was currently alone, at least for the moment, and was playing with a plastic cup that was nearly empty, having drank the rest of it. Unfortunately, I didn't even have anything to read. Hopefully, Dad would bring me some books from home before I started going mad from lack of things to do.

"Crap!" I cursed as I dropped the cup and sent the water tumbling towards the floor. I reflexively reached out to stop the water… and it stopped.

My jaw dropped as I stared at the water hanging immobile in midair. I concentrated and raised my hand, willing the water to gather into a ball in front of me.

Moving swiftly and smoothly, the water did as I wanted it to.

"Holy hell!" What the fuck had just happened?

A moment's thought later, I knew. I had somehow gotten powers. I was a Parahuman.

Intellectually, I knew that getting locked in a locker full of probably toxic materials and bugs for three days definitely counted as the worst experience in my life, but I had never guessed that it would actually result in my getting powers!

From the little I had read, whatever it was that sparked parahuman powers in those who had the potential for them was somehow linked with terrible things happening to them. They were, unquestionably, the worst thing to happen to someone and were never discussed, even on Parahumans Online, or PHO as it was usually referred to, an online forum for people who liked to discuss such things. The only discussion I had found even there just said 'worst experience of my life, the end' while the Moderator, Tin_Mother, had locked the thread after a while.

I could, apparently, control water… Hydrokinesis. This could explain the burst pipes at school! It was also both good and bad. Good, because it was a rare power, and bad, because it was one of the abilities used by Leviathan, one of the Endbringers.

Of course, Leviathan used a far more powerful version, Macrohydrokinesis. The ability to manipulate water on a tremendously large scale, such as creating rainfall and immense tidal waves. My power seemed tiny by comparison, but people who possessed similar powers to any of the Endbringers, whether Behemoth with his dynakinesis, Leviathan with his hydrokinesis, or the Simurgh with her telepathy, were rarely treated well.

Case in point, there was a member of the international superhero team, the Protectorate, Drought, who had the ability to rip water out of the human body. He was kept under extremely close scrutiny by the Protectorate even although he had never used his power to kill.

Carefully directing the water back into the cup, I drank it slowly as I thought about what I should do. I considered joining the Wards, but they were hemmed in by regulations and were closely monitored by the Protectorate. Shaking my head, I dismissed the notion. After the last fifteen months, any ability I'd once had to trust in authority figures was pretty much gone, so the likelihood of me taking orders from the local Protectorate authorities was pretty damned close to zero. Or even below that. Was less than nothing a thing?

Also, there was no way I wanted more teen drama on top of what I already had to deal with at school. Another option, New Wave, a local team of independent heroes, was also out because they revealed their identities to the public. No way was I doing that. I rather liked living.

So, an independent cape it was then. Not a villain, though. An independent hero was what I wanted to be. I'd act as a vigilante, and maybe, just maybe, I could make a difference.

The first thing to do was to get out of hospital, get an ersatz costume together and then take a trip to the Boat Graveyard at night, so I could test my powers. Exactly how much water could I manipulate at once and what could I do with it? These were just a few of the questions I had about my new power.

Right off the top of my head, I could think of several more questions I could ask that required some form of testing, but that could wait until I had the privacy to write them down and brainstorm them.

 **+++Waterworks+++**

I took a bite from the sandwich I'd made for lunch as I shuffled through the notes I had taken at the library earlier in the morning and grinned as I chewed. It had been two weeks since I'd figured out I was a parahuman, and I was finally out of the damn hospital. Better yet, I was off school for another week to allow me more time to recover. I was actually feeling pretty good considering, but I still had to use a cane to get about. Truthfully, it had been a bit of a struggle to just carry my plate to my room earlier so I could eat at my desk while I went over my notes.

As far as school went, I certainly didn't mind more time off. It wasn't like my grades could get any worse, so I ignored that part of the problem.

I was concentrating on gathering possible applications for my power. Thus far, I had Viscokinesis, Hydrokinetic Flight, Hydrokinetic Surfing, Water Purification, Hydrokinetic Combat, Water Generation, Aqua Aura (so I could fly), Water Empowerment, Atmidokinesis, Absolute Water Manipulation and a few others.

Something I thought would be cool, but couldn't seem to do was Water Transmutation, the ability to turn oneself into water. That was a Changer, or perhaps Breaker, ability, while I'd probably end up classified as more of a Blaster. I was definitely bound by something called the Manton Effect, which prevented Parahumans from affecting living things, stopping at their skins. It's what kept a telekinetic from reaching inside of someone and crushing their hearts. Me? I could use water, regular from a tap or even what was in the nearby ocean, but not what was in a person or animal's body.

I'd tried it on a piece of beef earlier on and was very glad to have that kind of worry removed from me.

Most of the other abilities required a larger amount of water than I had readily available to use, so I couldn't try them yet. I therefore had to stick with the ones that didn't need a lot of water.

I moved to the bathroom and concentrated, trying to draw water out of the air, an application of Absolute Water Control. Much to my frustration, all I earned for my trouble was a drop of water and a throbbing headache. Which seemed to mean that I couldn't create water out of nothing, while there wasn't enough humidity in the air to yield any amount of significant moisture.

Moving on, I filled the bath to the brim and tried to lift all of it into the air. It was hard, but I managed it… barely. Getting the water back in… yeah, that hadn't been as smooth. I'd let go of it too quickly and it had splashed back into the tub…and all over me.

Afterward, I quickly dried myself off, and changed clothes. Consulting my list, I decided to try altering the viscosity of the water. Emptying the bath and filling a small bowl with water from the sink, I pushed a finger into it and imagined it taking on the consistency of treacle. After a moment, I pulled my finger out with difficulty and upturned the bowl above the bath. The water in the bowl moved with a strange slowness as it plopped down out of the container and into the bathtub. It no longer acted like water, but rather like jelly or maybe syrup.

I barely withheld a squeal of joy at this. With this particular ability, taking down and immobilizing criminals would not only be easy, but I wouldn't be risking hurting them, something I knew the PRT frowned upon. Feeling almost giddy, now I just had to make sure I could turn the stuff back.

Looking at the odd mound of water jelly, I willed it to return to the normal consistency of water, which it did with a splash. Repeating the experiment a couple more times just made the smile on my face grow larger. Now I just had to find out if the effect was permanent or would revert after a couple of minutes. An hour later, I finally gave up, as it didn't seem to want to change back on its own.

I sat there on the closed toilet seat in the bathroom and considered things. It was just sinking in to me now. I was a Parahuman. I couldn't have that taken away by Sophia or Emma or anyone else.

Checking the time, I decided to get started on dinner for me and my dad. I'd use my mom's lasagne recipe as this was the first time I'd been home in over a week. A celebration was called for.

As I headed for the kitchen, I mentally catalogued what I could do thus far. I could control water, lifting it and moving it as I pleased. I could also make water turn into a poor man's Control Foam, albeit not nearly as secure. I'd have to experiment to see how high I could raise the viscosity of water before I could judge exactly how useful it could be.

What I couldn't seem to do was draw water out of the air around me, which sucked ass. At least not enough to use or justify the throbbing headache that the process caused me. That meant I had to work with what water was around me or that I could carry with me. On the plus side, when it was raining, I was set.

I timed everything so perfectly that when Dad finally walked through the door, I was dishing up a hearty serving of Mom's lasagne onto his plate.

"Hey kiddo." He smiled at me as he came into the dining room, "Annette's lasagne, eh? What's the occasion?"

"Me getting out of hospital at last," I replied. "How was work?"

"Alright," Dad replied as he shucked his coat and sat down at his place at the table. "Managed to get the mayor to agree to a contract to replace pipes with Tinker-made plastic in the Docks area around the Union's offices and buildings, so there's work for most of the guys for a while."

"That's great!" I told him as I put his plate in front of him and went to grab my own. Ever since the ferry had been shut down and the majority of the Bay had been turned into the Ship Graveyard, the Dockworker's Union had been struggling to maintain itself and not dissolve.

The numerous gangs that had arisen as the city's economy had declined didn't help matters. The Azn Bad Boys, or ABB for short, were led by Lung, the Dragon of Kyushu. Empire 88 was led by Kaiser, a neo-Nazi white supremacist. Finally, there were the Merchants, led by Skidmark, who was exactly as disgusting as his name sounded. Those three were the biggest and baddest and regularly tried to poach workers from the Union, succeeding far too often.

Seeing Dad actually get his workers a job that would pay the bills made me so happy for him. He worked hard for little gain and he deserved some success.

We chatted about a lot of safe topics, things that didn't involve my bullies or Winslow. It felt like how things had been before Sophia had entered the picture, before Emma had become my greatest tormentor. When my dad and I had finally began recovering from my mom's death.

"Taylor…I'm not so certain that I want you to go back there," Dad said uncomfortably once we'd finished eating. "They almost killed you."

"I can't exactly transfer to Arcadia, Dad," I pointed out. "My grades are not good enough. Not anymore, anyway."

"What about home schooling yourself?" he suggested. "You have your mother's work ethic and I think you'd do better without having… anything hanging over your head."

I stared at my dad in astonishment. Why the hell hadn't I thought of that?

"Dad… who gave you this idea?" I asked curiously. "It isn't the kind of thing you'd normally think of."

"Kurt and Lacey," Dad replied. "They…weren't happy with the school after what happened. Everyone we know in the Union is pretty pissed because of what happened to you."

Taking this in, I felt… happy. It was nice to have people on your side for a change. Kurt and Lacey were my godparents, so it wasn't that much of a surprise, true, but still…

I forced my mind out of its happy place and focused on this new paradigm. As he said, home schooling myself would be way easier than forcing myself to go to school just to be bullied…again. I was, no false modesty here, smart. Smart enough to actually graduate from High School sooner than expected if allowed to go at my own pace rather that of my teachers.

"Would Winslow allow it?" I asked. "I mean, we did get them to give me a new locker and everything."

"Screw what they think," Dad said bluntly. "They lost the right to quibble when you had to endure fifteen months of hell."

Wow. Dad wasn't taking any prisoners here. Still…

"Two weeks," I said at last. "If things aren't better after two weeks back at Winslow, we'll go with home schooling."

I doubted that they would improve significantly enough to avoid home schooling. If nothing else, Sophia, Emma and Madison were persistent. They wouldn't stop until I was either dead or not in Winslow anymore. I hated the idea of losing to them, but I was so damn tired of fighting impossible odds.

"Okay." Dad nodded.

We spent the rest of the evening watching a movie from Earth Aleph before dad went to bed. I sat up thinking about the way things were in Brockton Bay. The skinheads, druggies and Asian gangsters were tearing the city apart and even the Parahuman Response Team and the Protectorate was helpless to do anything.

I wanted to be a hero. I wanted to make a difference, and now I could. I would fight the gangs and try to make my hometown a better place. Just like Mom and Dad.

Settling down under my covers, I smiled before I went to sleep.


	2. Drop 1-2

**Beta'd by becauzitswrong.**

"Damn you Sophia!" - Speech

' _Why_ _Emma?_ ' - Thought

 **Drop 1.2**

 **+++Taylor+++**

When I woke up the next morning and went about my normal routine, I had come to several conclusions about my powers. Firstly, they were both limited and versatile. Limited in that I could only work with what I had around me, versatile in that I could likely do quite a bit with it.

I could control water, as in lift it and manipulate it, but I couldn't draw it out of the air. That sucked, but it wasn't an insurmountable obstacle.

Secondly, I needed to practice using them. There was only one area that had enough water to possibly be of use and be free from prying eyes… the Boat Graveyard.

Thirdly, water was not everywhere. I would have to find a way to carry it around with me…not with water pistols however, as they were too limited in their volume. Maybe a bottle or two of water in my civilian identity, but if I ended up making a costume, I'd need something a bit more involved with higher capacity.

My mind screeched to a halt in the middle of brushing my teeth as it focused on the problem and I suddenly had a blueprint in my mind of…something. Exactly what, I didn't know, but it was something to do with my problem.

This… was this Tinkertech? Was I a Tinker as well as a Blaster?

Shaking my head, I forced myself to continue, shoving the blueprint to the back of my mind for the moment. I could concentrate on that later.

"So what's on the schedule for today?" Dad asked as he tucked into his cold breakfast of Wheaties and milk.

"I'm thinking about taking up jogging. I mean, I'd probably end up walking more than running at first, but eventually, I want to be able to, well... err... run," I offered as I took a bite of my own Captain Crunch. Dad didn't need to know the deeper reasons behind why I was doing this. In that that same vein, I continued, "I need to get my body back up to normal and… I dunno, maybe I'll enjoy it."

″Your mom hated exercise," Dad reminisced. "She still did it, though, when she ran with Lustrum back in the day."

The knowledge that my Mom had hung around a supervillain when she had been in college was weird. I could kinda see why she did it, but I was also glad that she had gotten out before Lustrum's followers had turned violent.

"What about you?" I asked. "Anything interesting happening today?"

"Unfortunately, no," Dad said with a sigh, his expression pensive. "Just more boring paperwork."

I made Dad a bagged lunch of bologna and cheese with a banana, and sent him off with a smile before going for a jog. I didn't get too far before I had to take a rest, my lungs heaving and sweat streaming down my face, but I was hopeful that it would get easier once I started to do it every day.

When I got back home, I took a shower, then rested for a while. When my legs started feeling less like jelly and more like legs, I started with my experiments again. I started off with the viscosity experiment again, but this time tried to make it as thick and sticky as I could get it. The end result was that it was like putting my hand into liquid cement. This would be useful against regular gang bangers and thugs, but probably not against someone like Glory Girl, who was a Brute with strength far above a human's.

Curious, I tried to do the reverse to some oil, lowering the viscosity as far as it would go. Much to my surprise, it worked. Then I realized that I had only really affected the oil a small amount, thinning it so it ran down a piece of paper just a little faster than the original sample. My knowledge of machinery was too limited to know if just a small change in viscosity would be enough to actually affect its operation. Maybe so. On the other hand, it might just make the thing work better. I'd have to figure out a way to test it at a later date.

I also considered just who this would be useful against and one name immediately came to mind. Squealer, a member of the Merchants. She was a Tinker who specialized in building vehicles, seeming to always be in the news with yet another mechanical monstrosity accredited to her name. If I could get one of _her_ trucks to break down, that would be something. Although with my luck, it would probably have some crazy Tinker power supply and not even use a real engine. Still, I considered what I'd learned to be useful.

I was a strong Hydrokinetic, with weak control over other liquids. Useful.

The next thing I tried was Water Purification. That is the ability to remove impurities within water. Not useful in combat, it would still be good to see if I had that kind of fine control. I filled a basin with water, then took it into the garage and added some dirt, grass, and other stuff I had gathered in the yard. In hindsight, I hoped I hadn't inadvertently added dog poop or something, as I was going to taste the result to see if it was drinkable.

I reached out and held my hand above the disgusting mess, concentrating on the idea of pulling just the water up and out of the basin. The water rippled, swirled and then rose obediently into the air. I steeled myself, then proceeded to the next part.

I directed a streamer of the water to cross in front of me, then leaned forward and took a sip. It was both chillingly cold and perfectly clean. After a moment's reflection, I decided that it was actually a lot cleaner than even the stuff that came out of the tap. I took another slip, deciding then and there to use this ability each and every time I poured myself a glass of water.

Okay, that had worked, but I had to practice getting it under better control so that I could use the same container for both the pure and impure water. Maybe I could pull the pure water upward, while trapping the impurities beneath using a form of the water jelly I'd discovered the day before?

Deciding there was no time like the present to start, I focused exclusively upon this for the next two hours. By the end of that time, I'd figured out a couple of things. I _could_ pull the pure water away from the polluted stuff. I could also separate the two with a barrier of water jelly.

But by far the best thing I'd figured out was that I could keep squeezing the water out of the impure region until it was composed almost solely of impurities. I could then eject it from the pure water by trapping it within water jelly, floating it to wherever I wanted.

My eyes narrowed as I considered the implications. Not only could I now purify water, although the sheer amount remained to be seen, but I could also coat things in water jelly, retaining my ability to move the now much more viscous liquid. This boded well for the likelihood of me being able to use someday fly.

After having lunch and taking a walk around the block, I turn my hand to manipulating water into shapes that I could use to attack and defend with. Choosing the bathroom for its easy clean up potential, I levitated some water out of the bath once it was filled and then shaped it to look like a bird.

At least I _tried_ to change it to look like a bird. The thing ended up looking like the bastard child of Crawler of the Slaughterhouse Nine and one of Nilbog's monstrosities. I tried a couple more times before concluding that I at least needed to have a solid picture in my head of what I wanted it to look like in order to make it look good.

Of course, it might just be that I lacked the artistic ability to shape it into something particularly lifelike. If so, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. There were plenty of simple shapes that would do just as well. After all, even I could shape a cube and hover it so that someone's head was contained within.

I shifted my focus to pulling water over my hand and shaping it into a larger appendage equipped with claws. As this was much easier to visualize than a bird, it worked. I discovered that it mimicked the movement of my actual hand and I could make the claws look razor sharp if I wanted to. Of course, they couldn't actually cut anything as they were just water, but they sure _looked_ cool.

Curiously, I tried to actually harden the water, making the claws as sharp as they looked. Something happened a moment later and I tentatively touched the point of one claw with the index finger of my other hand, promptly cutting myself.

″Substanciakinesis,″ I breathed in awe as I sucked on the blood. I'd managed to accomplish Water Solidification, the ability to turn water from its usual state to any other consistence from jelly-like to as solid as steel. It was also know as Substanciakinesis, something I'd researched at the library. Reaching out, I tried to move the fingers, but they remained utterly unmovable despite my efforts.

After a further bit of experimentation, I found that I could apply it to selective areas of the construct as I wished, giving me a hand tipped with hard-as-steel claws that was almost as dexterous as my own. Hand to hand combat just became a very different proposition than it had been before.

Returning the water to the tub, I tried one more thing. I slipped my socks off and stood in the two inches of water in the bathtub, feeling silly, and tried to see if I gained power from immersing myself. The answer was it didn't work any better than it had when I'd showered that morning, although I didn't know if that was an actual limitation or because of the small amount of water that I had available to work with. Something else to test in the Boat Graveyard, though I'd be leery of the pollution there. Maybe I could purify some water first, then use it.

I went for another walk around the block and made better time than my earlier one. I then started on dinner, making spaghetti carbonara. I had been doing pretty much all of the cooking since mom died, as Dad could barely boil water without burning it. Besides, I liked to cook. I found it relaxing.

Dad looked a lot more cheerful when he came in. He wasted no time in telling me why. "Big win today, Taylor. I managed to get a contract from the city council to refurbish and rebuild an old warehouse. It's been abandoned pretty much since that first ship sank. But it gets better."

Grinning, I took the bait. "Yeah? How's that?"

"If everything works according to the council's plan, they'll turn around and sell it to once we've fixed it up. Which could mean even more jobs for the Union. And the city slowly gets cleaned up as well."

Stunned, I barely managed to say, "Dad, that's fantastic. I'm so proud of you."

We shared as smile as we sat at the kitchen table.

"I've been out to take a look at the site and boy, is there a tone of junk inside," he chuckled before tucking in to his meal.

"What kind of stuff?" I asked, not really that interested as my mind tried to work out all of the complications his news had brought.

"Oh, you know… a roomful of crates full of finished goods, a bunch of old power tools, and a whole lot of rust," he replied. "Some of the stuff there is still in pretty good condition. I might be able to buy some of the tools from the city for my guys. The Union can always use some cheap spares. We can't really afford new stuff, as you well know."

Apparently, the warehouse was near the edge of the Boat Graveyard, nominally the territory of the ABB, but Lung pretty much ignored that area because of there not being anything of real value left in the boats or warehouses.

"I'm surprised that the gangs haven't picked it over," I commented.

Dad's face momentarily soured at the thought of the gangs. "The rooms which the abandoned crates and power tools were in was almost airtight," he explained, "The crates contain mostly computer parts; motherboards, chips, and fans. That kind of thing. The rooms were concealed near the rear of the warehouse thanks to a cape fight between Oni Lee and Skidmark a few years ago that caved part of the roof in. No one knew any of this was there."

"Cool," I said nonchalantly. Inside, however, my thoughts were racing. This could be what I was looking for. "When does the job start? Will you need a bigger lunch than usual that day because you'll be working late?"

"Thanks to the infernal nuisance that is bureaucracy, the work won't start until next month," Dad said, a sour expression on his face. "Still, I will be needing lunch and dinner that first day. I'll be supervising on site, just to make sure nothing goes awry. Thanks for offering, kiddo."

"No problem," I replied, feeling slightly guilty from my ulterior motives. Still, I did want Dad to eat well that day. If I had more than one reason for asking, well, that was just good sense. So we justify our actions to ourselves.

I had most of a month to get in, grab some tools and set up a workshop for myself. I should feel bad about taking stuff that I hadn't paid for, but officially, abandoned stuff in the Docks area belonged to whoever found it first. Thus it was ruled by the court several years ago, when the legal morass of exactly who owned what dragged on interminably after the sinking of that first ship had created the Boat Graveyard. Too many people had just walked away from their property, while the banks that had tried to foreclose found that there was less than zero value to the property involved as possession of it required the payment of substantial amounts of back taxes. Finally, all parties involved had just stepped aside, leaving the area in a state of limbo.

Dad, being someone who lived by the rules, was far too honest to follow the accepted practice, so he would likely do as he said and hand the stuff over to the city. I made a note to contact Kurt and get him to try and talk my Dad out of it. The Dockworker's Union needed the money too badly to be so generous. Even working for someone else, they were entitled to the items as legitimate salvage. Getting up to clear table, my thoughts were already turning toward what I would say to him.

Later that night, I wracked my memory of the times I had trawled PHO and made a tentative profile of the more villainous capes within Brockton Bay. I'd flesh it out more later, but wanted to get a feel of who I might have to deal with in the near future.

First, there was Lung, the leader of the ABB, sometimes referred to as the Dragon of Kyushu. He possessed Pyrokinesis, a strong regeneration factor, and the ability to become bigger and stronger the longer the fight went on. He'd fought entire teams of Parahumans in the past and beaten them all. He was probably best known for battling Leviathan one-on-one when the Endbringer had attacked Kyushu, eventually driving him off. Of course, that was only after the island itself was already lost, making it a Pyrrhic victory at best.

His lieutenant, Oni Lee, was pretty much a nut job. He was a teleporter who left clones of himself behind each time he teleported that lasted several seconds. It made him particularly fond of suicide attacks using grenades and other explosives.

On the flip side of the coin was Kaiser, the leader of Empire 88, our local white supremacist gang, who could summon basic metal objects from any flat surface. He was fond of using his power to impale his foes with summoned metal blades of varying length. Not someone to fight one-one-one.

One of his enforcers, Hookwolf, was a Changer/Brute who could transform himself into a mass of hooks, blades and the like, even assuming various different forms, though his favourite was quadrupedal and resembled a wolf, earning him his name.

Next to come to mind was Skidmark, the leader of the Merchants, who could create force fields that could draw things through itself or repel things away from it. Some people on PHO even speculated that he could even layer his ability, creating stronger fields with repetitive use.

Another of the Merchant's capes was Mush, who was a Shifter. He could gather a mass of debris to himself and form a larger body around his actual body, making him the heavy hitter of the villainous gang of druggies.

The last member of the Merchants was Squealer, the Tinker whose vehicles I'd wondered if I could affect.

There were a large number of villainous capes in Brockton Bay other than just them. Empire 88 boasted the biggest membership, their numbers alone matching the local Protectorate and Wards teams together. Besides Kaiser and Hookwolf, there were Fenja, Menja, Cricket, Stormtiger, Krieg, and Rune, to name just a few.

Besides the larger gangs, there were smaller ones, as well as over a dozen independents and duos. One villainous gang that had been making waves recently was the Undersiders.

The gang's membership consisted of Grue, Bitch, Regent and Tattletale, all of them capes. Information on them and their powers was sketchy at best. Grue could supposedly generate a cloud of darkness. Bitch was a Master who could grow dogs to monstrous sizes and was rumoured to be able to control them with her mind. She was also one of those capes without a secret identity. Her name was Rachel Lindt, or Hellhound as she was known as to the politically correct PRT, and she was wanted for murder according to PHO.

The other two were completely unknown, other than Tattletale being tentatively designated as a Thinker for some reason, probably because she'd never exhibited any overt power.

I had to make plans on how to deal with them, just in case I ever ran into any of them while out. With my desire to become a hero, it felt inevitable that we would someday cross paths.

 **+++Waterworks+++**

The next couple of days followed the same routine. Make breakfast, watch Dad head off to work, experiment with my powers, jog... okay walk, more experimenting with my powers, walk again, and then spend quality family time with Dad.

However, today I had decided to ask Dad to drop me off at the library again, so I could do a bit more research on water-based powers. He demurred, wanting me to stay put until he could take me after work, but I convinced him it was alright and the walk home after would be good for my recovery. It wasn't exactly a lie, and I hoped to be done with my cane soon.

I quickly checked the site I had gone to before, but there wasn't any new information except a subject called Water Walking, which I had missed before, and a link to Cryokinesis, something I already knew I couldn't do. Sure, my experiments had shown me that I could alter the temperature of the water, making it freezing cold or boiling hot, but I couldn't actually change its state, neither freezing the damn stuff nor turning it into steam or mist.

Water Walking, or Hydro-Locomotion, was interesting though. I guessed that I could use Viscokinesis or Substanciakinesis to accomplish something similar, but it would take a lot of training to be able to do it without consciously thinking about it.

I was completely fine with that.

After checking everything on the site, I logged off and scoured the books for anything else to do with water. I decided on a book about water purification, so I could see what, if anything, I was doing wrong. I also checked out a couple of books of comics from Earth Aleph that starred two different heroes in them. One was called 'Aquaman' and the other 'Namor: The Sub-Mariner.'

Both heroes described within seemed to employ water-based powers of some kind, so they would make good research material. Seriously.

The last book I chose was about parkour, which would definitely be useful getting about town, although at first glance it seemed like it might take several months to get good enough to use it effectively. Ah, well, at least it would probably help with my physical therapy.

I did some window shopping on the way back for a temporary costume so I could do further testing of my powers in more realistic surroundings. The total for everything I wanted was $150, if I ignored a Kevlar vest, which more than quadrupled the total.

Dad had been making noises about getting me a can of pepper spray or Mace for self-defence anyway, which would be nice to have as a backup.

A balaclava, polarized goggles, dark pants, gloves, boots and a urban-camo jacket were not exactly cheap, especially when I also wanted a baton for close combat just in case.

Currently, I was simply too poor and not physically fit enough to do anything about it, so I restrained myself to buying just the balaclava and gloves. I would secret them in a box at the bottom of my closet, where Dad would never look for them. He had learned not to mess with my stuff after I started entering puberty, memories of his face the time he'd pulled a box of tampons out of one of my dresser drawers making me smile.

When I got home, I had lunch after putting away my new gear, then jogged... okay, _walked_ around the block. I cursed that decision when I practically crawled into the house afterwards, but I knew it would eventually be worth it. Even if I could get about with my water, I would still need to beat feet the majority of the time in order to keep a low profile.

Once my legs stopped burning, I searched the house for tools, ending up with only a couple of screwdrivers, a hammer, a chisel and a really old electric drill that looked as if it would shock me if I tried to use it if it.

Oh well. No luck there.

I spent the next couple of hours trying and failing to stand on water before getting dinner ready, a hearty stew, although more potatoes than beef. I decided that I'd need to go grocery shopping soon as we were low on a lot of different things.

 **+++Waterworks+++**

The next day was fairly boring, except I finally figured out how to walk on water. In the end, it wasn't as hard as I'd tried to make it. I just had to use something similar to Substanciakinesis to create a surface I could stand upon, then force it to stay in place using my water control.

I did have to really concentrate in order to stand still, but walking was actually a whole lot easier. Running wasn't something I could test in my bath, so that was moved to the growing list of things I had to try out at the Graveyard.

"OK, let's try this," I muttered as I set about attempting to use Hydrokinetic Flight…or, in this instance, Hydrokinetic Levitation. I had read some of the Aquaman and Namor comics last night before going to bed and they could use it by coating their bodies in water and lifting themselves with Hydrokinesis. Sadly, they were irritatingly vague when it came to how much water to use, so I'd have to experiment.

A thin coating almost worked, but only to lift me a millimetre or so. I ended up needing to place about half an inch over my torso, abdomen and legs in order to levitate, which meant my costume would have to either be waterproof or… I briefly wondered if I could just store the water beneath a layer of armour. Maybe it could even act as an additional layer of armour, allowing me to harden it at times using Substanciakinesis, then allow it to return back to its liquid state after.

Hmm… that last one had potential.

Resolving to buy a sketchpad so I could work out the details of my costume, I pulled all the excess liquid off my skin and out from my clothes, a useful fringe benefit of my powers, and went downstairs to make dinner.

Two hours later, I was involved in yet another serious discussion with my dad, the remains of the stir fry I'd made for dinner scattered around us.

"Taylor, you have to return to school in just two days." Dad said with a frown, "I am really not comfortable with the idea of you going back there. Will you please reconsider being home schooled?"

I hesitated for a moment. A tossup between enduring the Bitch Trio, Greg Veder, my wannabe stalker, and the collective apathy of the teachers and student body, versus being able to learn at my own pace and having a lot more time to research my powers and build my suit. Ordinarily, this would be a no-brainer, but…

"I don't want to let Emma and the other two win." I hated the whine in my voice as I confided in my dad.

"Kiddo, you can only fight these kind of odds for so long," Dad told me firmly. "The fact you recovered so quickly from the psychotic break after the locker incident is a testament to your willpower, even after a year and a half of bullying. Horrific bullying that never would have happened if the staff were actually doing their jobs properly. With the teachers and the students against you, you're up against almost insurmountable odds. There's no shame in withdrawing in the face of that."

Looking at it that way, I could see his point. I was still reluctant to do it, but I could finally understand that I was wrong to be so stubborn under the circumstances. At some point, stubbornness became stupidity, and I was pretty sure I was at or near that point.

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to relieve the tension there. Finally, with a sigh of relief, I admitted defeat. "Okay, Dad, you win. Pull me out of that hellhole."

Inside, twin knots of tension and worry that I had been ignoring for a long time, eased and disappeared. Even my neck felt better. I really didn't have to go back to that place. I would no longer have to endure the taunts, the sneers, the constant knowledge that I was all alone against the entire school… none of it. I felt better than I had since long before the locker.

I felt like I was finally free.


	3. Drop 1-3

"Damn you Sophia!" – Speech

 _'Why Emma?_ ' - Thought

 **Drop 1.3**

 **+++Taylor+++**

The last two days before I would have gone back to school, I spent mostly at home resting, with a bit of walking and jogging thrown in as my leg allowed. I was also having a private celebration.

No more Winslow. No more bullies. No more having to scuttle between classes like a frightened mouse.

Heaven by comparison.

I didn't spend all my time celebrating; I did research on what materials I could legally obtain from the state to further my home-schooling, which was a bit more than I had expected. Combined with the public library, the resources provided would be a big help.

The payout that the school had given us was more than enough to buy a second-hand computer with a dial-up modem. It was slower than hell, but this way I didn't always have to go to the library in order to use the computers there, which would make taking the online tests I needed so much easier.

One of the librarians, Shirley, when I went there on Sunday, helped me look through several books on the various subjects I had to take to in order to obtain my high school diploma while being home schooled. I felt that none of what I had learned at Winslow could be counted upon, thanks to the Bitch Trio's sabotage, so I decided to start from the beginning. It wouldn't be as quick, perhaps, but I'd be more certain of my foundation. I could also be certain I'd do better do better on my qualification tests for college.

Now that I was basically going to have the house to myself all day once Dad left for work, I also bought a sketchpad so I could finally put my Tinkertech ideas down on paper. I'd hide it in my wardrobe as well, at least until I could find somewhere secure to call my base.

…urgh, even saying it that way sounded far too much like a villain talking.

I was cooking breakfast, scrambled eggs and sausages, when dad came down the stairs on Monday morning looking like he was about to tear someone to pieces. When he told me what he was planning on doing at the school that day, I definitely approved. Ignore me would they?

Take that, Blackwell!

"After listening to what you put up with, every parent who has a child at Winslow was horrified," Dad said as he ate. "Especially that damn locker."

I shuddered, remembering the locker, the stink of the rotting pads and tampons, the bugs crawling over me, the desire, the _need_ , to wash it all away, then…

 _ **Destination.**_

 _ **Agreement.**_

 _ **Trajectory.**_

 _ **Agreement.**_

 _ **Wrath.**_

 _ **Denied. Flow.**_

 _ **Melancholy.**_

 _ **Denied. Cleansing.**_

… _ **Agreement.**_

 _ **Destination.**_

 _ **Intersection!**_

"Taylor? Taylor!" Dad called out to me worriedly. I realized I had been locked inside my mind, reliving that hellish time. I forced my thoughts down a different path before smiling wanly at Dad.

"I'm fine…it was just a flashback," I told him. "It's the first I've had since getting out of hospital. The doctor told me it might happen every now and again. I'll just keep myself busy. You go and stick it to the man, Dad, or woman in this case."

"That sounds so wrong," Dad said, cringing slightly. Then he sighed. "I'm sorry about reminding you of the locker."

I had been rethinking what I'd said and was cringing a bit myself. "It's okay, Dad. I'm sorry, too."

When Dad left, I got out my sketchpad and let my mind wander to the vague ideas I had about my costume, which was now developing to be more like a suit of power-assisted amour. Not full-on power armor, just armor with minor help from servos to help carry it around. Power-assisted armor.

The armor would be multi-layered: one layer of titanium, another of Kevlar, then a layer of roughly half an inch of impact resistant plastic, or possibly titanium, boxes containing water, then another layer of Kevlar, another half inch of water and a final layer of Kevlar. I'd shell the whole thing in metal. Again, preferably titanium, or, failing that, iron or steel would do.

The servos, unlike the rest of the armor, would be fairly easy to make once I had the right equipment. It would have to be an endoskeleton rather than an exoskeleton due to the need to protect it as much as was possible. Hard, but doable.

The water cells between the layers would act as both armor and allow me fly, using my hydrokinesis, which was a bonus. Three layers of Kevlar, a metal shell and an inch of very dense water should stop most conventional weaponry short of high explosives, an anti-material rifle, or rocket launcher.

The tank on the back would be a container for water, one that would be linked up to the cells in the suit and, ultimately, my wrist-mounted water cannons. Those would have an adjustable flow and aperture so I could select between a needle-thin stream of water and a large blast of water similar to a fire hose.

The only problem would be refilling the damn tank. If I used the full blast mode, the entire suit would be empty in less than thirty seconds. Then I'd have to use external sources of water, which I might not have access to.

Then it hit me. I could build a dehumidifier into the tank, drawing water from the air and into the tank, as well as the rest of the suit. Why bother using my powers to draw water from the air when a device existed in current technology that did it for me, albeit slowly and on a smaller scale? Thankfully, the innate advantage of Tinkertech allowed me to build something that told conventional wisdom and the laws of physics to take a hike. Of course, if I was anywhere near water, my hydrokinesis would allow me to refill my tank easily.

Moving on, my head still wasn't covered, which was a necessity, not only from a combat point of view, but from a secret identity point of view as well. I didn't want anyone to know who I was, neither the city's villains, rogues, vigilantes, heroes, or random passers-by, so that was a must.

The helmet I sketched was made of a kind of mirrored, reinforced glass. I scrubbed that. One punch from Glory Girl, or any of the Bay's other Brutes, and it would shatter like a goldfish bowl dropped on the floor. I tried to come up with something else.

Oh! I remembered a film from Earth Aleph that had a man using a helmet that was collapsible and covered him from the top of his head to the nape of his throat. _Lost in Space_ , I think it was called. Matt LeBlanc's character had worn it against the alien bug things. The lenses could also work like my glasses. Still, that wasn't enough.

A helmet over another helmet? That might work. It could have a HUD, be linked in to my suit so I could monitor its status and the amount of the water I had left. To confuse people, it would be locked onto the suit and be slightly larger for what my head needed…as well as for adding cushioning in case of impacts. I sketched it out and then stopped.

There it was... my suit. It looked awesome. Like a real hero's equipment. The only problem was getting my hands on the materials and tools to build the damn thing. Kevlar wasn't cheap, not in the amount I needed. Neither was titanium. Steel and iron was in plentiful supply, if not in the Boat Graveyard, then in various scrap yards around Brockton Bay.

Of course, running around scrap yards looking for useful items was one of the main ways that Tinkers got outed. If not by the authorities, then by the various gangs.

Looking at my sketchpad, I had to frown. This was an ambitious suit of armor, one that fulfilled every possible scenario I might encounter. Who was I planning on fighting in it? Leviathan?

Shuddering at that mental image, I folded the pad up and put it in my room for the moment. I could start on that later. For now, shopping time.

To obtain their diploma, a student had to show proficiency in reading and writing, social studies, mathematics and science. All of which had been covered, more or less, by the classes at Winslow. Sadly, all my books had been in my locker when the Bitch Trio had filled it with that foul, disgusting stuff. I did have money from Winslow to buy replacements, but I had to wonder if they'd try to claim it back because I was being withdrawn. Would they be able to make a case?

Maybe.

As much as the administration at Winslow had failed me, I was willing to at least hope that they would let me keep the money for my books. I got ready to leave, wearing loose jeans, a t-shirt, and my hoodie. Making sure I had my wallet and the can of pepper spray Dad had bought me on Saturday, I headed out and caught a bus that would take me Downtown.

Catching the bus in Brockton Bay was actually not as dangerous as you might think. Years ago, Marquis, a major player in the criminal underworld around here, had made and enforced rules for criminals to follow. He considered himself a genteel criminal, which was why there were no attacking hospitals or fighting on public transportation, that sort of thing.

Kaiser's predecessor as leader of Empire 88, Allfather, had apparently agreed with those rules and enforced them as well. When Lung arrived and made this place the home of the ABB, he didn't violate the rules either, tacitly supporting them. The only gang that had never paid attention to them were the Merchants. It was just one of the points of contention between them and the other two gangs. Empire 88 and the ABB, regardless of their mutual hatred of each other, often stepped in to stomp any of the Merchant's members who tried to violate them, although I was sure it was just an excuse most of the time.

It was the main reason I didn't feel worried when a group of young men with shaved heads, likely with Empire 88 affiliations, got on the bus. Kaiser, being smart enough to see how seeming to be a voice of reason within the city, had quietly announced when he took over after Allfather's death that he would be supporting the 'Marquis Rules,' as they had come to be known, and threatened dire punishments on anyone who broke them.

I didn't want to give any further consideration to the idea of a Nazi thug being the 'voice of reason' within my city, so I just ignored the boys and continued looking out the window.

Getting off in Downtown, I first checked the big name bookstores to see if they had the textbooks I was looking for and compared their prices, which led to me darting into the bargain bookstores, second-hand bookstores, and thrift stores. I eventually managed to buy all my textbooks at a third of their retail price, almost brand new, from a thrift store.

I also scored a book on various metals, including titanium. Hopefully, this would give me ideas where I could find titanium. Go me.

Moving on, I used several months of allowance to buy the jacket that I wanted for my temporary outfit. Reading the price on the tag made me wince. Ouch. Still, it was a good quality jacket and would last a while. Weighed down by a couple of bagfuls of books and the jacket, I decided to head home.

Unfortunately for me, a pair of Merchants were lurking around the bus stop.

"Hey girly, want some candy?" one leered at me.

Alarm bells were ringing inside my head. Merchants had been known to grab kids and forcibly injected them with whatever cocktail of drugs they were pushing that week, usually something almost instantly addictive, and forcing them to join their gang. I looked around for a cop, or at least other pedestrians, but didn't see anyone. I was just about to do something rash, when I heard her.

"How about you get lost?" a brazen voice called out from... above me?

Looking up, I saw a floating blond-haired girl wearing a white outfit that showed her stunning figure really well. It was Victoria Dallon, or if you prefer, Glory Girl of New Wave.

"Fuck you!" the druggie snarled and drew a gun. Not a good move.

Faster than I could blink, she swooped down. A moment later, the barrel of the gun was crushed in Glory Girl's hand, while the wielder was bent over, clutching his midsection as he vomited in the street. All of that from a minor tap from the super heroine. The druggie's companion had beaten feet and fled.

"You okay?" Glory Girl asked me.

"Umm… yeah," I said, feeling awkward. "Thanks for that." Up close, she was even prettier than she'd looked up in the air, not a hair out of place. It made me all the more conscious of how plain I was in comparison.

"It's cool. All in a day's work." The blonde cape shrugged, then asked, "Shouldn't you be in school?"

I frowned a bit, as I was aware that she attended Arcadia. If she wasn't in school, why would she think I needed to be?

"I'm home schooled, or I will be by the end of today," I told her. "Anyway, there's my bus. Thanks again."

After getting on the bus, a young man with his head nearly shaved stopped me as I was looking for a seat. "What was with that back there?"

Shrugging, I said, "Merchant's plying their trade. Or at least I think so." I was wary because even though he wasn't sporting any obvious gang colors or signs, it was possible he was affiliated with Empire 88.

"Stupid niggers," the boy stated matter-of-factly. "Have to put them in their place." He looked all too eager to do exactly that as I kept on walking, before settling into a seat a couple of rows further down.

Based upon his words, I moved him firmly into the Nazi gang's camp. Pulling up my hoodie to hide my face, I kept to myself for the rest of the ride and thankfully got off without any further ado close to my home. I dropped off my stuff and then headed out to do some shopping at the local grocery store.

Thankfully, Dad had topped up the prepaid card we used for grocery shopping. Even better, he hadn't taken it with him, which let me use it. I picked some bread, milk and other staples, getting home in time to make myself lunch, a grilled cheese and ham sandwich.

After finishing my lunch, I rested a bit, my bum leg still bothering me. After an hour or so, I put away my new textbooks in my room and my jacket in my closet before writing out a list of the Protectorate capes living in Brockton Bay.

The Protectorate East-Northeast had seven Parahumans in their ranks. They were led by Armsmaster, a Tinker who specialized in miniaturization and efficiency. He wore blue and silver power armor and carried a halberd with dozens of different devices contained within. He even had an awesome Tinkertech motorcycle that was supposedly incredibly fast, although no one could claim to have seen it even break the speed limit.

Miss Militia was his second in command. Her Parahuman power allowed her to create various firearms from some kind of green energy. It was rumoured on PHO that she did not need to sleep.

Assault was a Striker, able to manipulate kinetic energy somehow. Not a lot was known about his past, as he had pretty much come out of nowhere a few years ago. He supposedly had some kind of 'thing' going with one of his teammates, Battery, or at least their names suggested it. Neither of them ever answered questions about their relationship, if it even existed.

Battery was rumoured to be a Mover and a Breaker. Certainly she could run incredibly fast when the occasion called for it. She also hit a lot harder than a normal person. Her costume was grey with blue circuitry that glowed, especially when she was using her power.

Velocity was a Mover. He was supposedly able to move hundreds of miles an hour, which was a pretty cool power to have.

Triumph had some kind of sonic power, his shouts able to take down even minor Brutes. The raters over on PHO classified him as a Blaster.

Dauntless was the only member of the local Protectorate who was actually from Brockton Bay. He as some kind of Trump, able to imbue objects with power, including his spear and shield. He probably did the same thing did the same thing with the rest of his gear, although no one knew what any of it did. He did look cool, though, almost like a medieval knight.

The Wards were the Protectorate's junior team and included Kid Win, Clockblocker, Vista, Aegis, Shadow Stalker, Gallant and the latest addition, Browbeat. Once they turned eighteen, they could become full-fledged members of the Protectorate. In the meantime, they earned money that was put in a fund to pay for their college.

The only other hero team in Brockton Bay was New Wave, consisting of two different families of Parahumans who were related to one another. Once known as the Brockton Bay Brigade, they had all unmasked back in the nineties as part of the 'superheroes with accountability' movement. Unfortunately, that had unravelled when one of their members, Fleur, had been murdered in her civilian identity.

Sarah Pelham, also known as Lady Photon, was the leader of New Wave. She was able to fly, fire solid lasers, and use forcefields. Her nickname, which was all over the PHO forums, was 'Photon Mom', because she supposedly gave off that vibe when directing her group.

Her husband, Neil, or Manpower, was a powerful brute that stood over seven feet tall. Supposedly, he had some other power as well. Their daughter, Crystal, or Laserdream, had a powerset to her mom's, although supposedly with stronger lasers and weaker shields. Their son, Eric, or Shielder, had roughly the same powerset as his sister and mother, except his specialty was shielding, while his lasers and flight were supposed to be weak.

The other family, the Dallons, consisted of Sarah's sister, Carol Dallon, or Brandish, who could make weapons out of light. She could also turn herself into a ball of light. Carol's husband, Mark, or Flashbang, was a bit of a mystery. He was rarely in public these days. He was rumoured to be able to create light grenades of some sort. Their daughter and my saviour, Victoria Dallon, or Glory Girl, was an Alexandria package, flight, strength, and invulnerability.

Finally, there was Victoria's sister, Amy, or Panacea, the world's strongest healer. She could heal any wound or disease, although supposedly she couldn't work on brains.

I sat back and whistled. That was a huge number of Parahumans for a place no bigger than Brockton Bay. Between the heroes, villains, and rogues, there were more Parahumans per capita than any city except for New York.

Worse, villains outnumbered heroes slightly here in Brockton Bay. But the way the Protectorate worked together gave it the edge even against as powerful a gang as Empire 88.

Dismissing the problem for now, I focused on the book on metals, looking up titanium almost immediately. Titanium was perfect for me, as it was resistant to corrosion, as well as being light and strong. So no rusting easily when I'm around water for so long.

The most common type of titanium alloy was one known as Grade 5, used in everything from military ship hulls to biomedical implants. The so-called 'workhorse' alloy of titanium. This meant I could scout the ships in the Boat Graveyard for it, although I wasn't hopeful. Maybe one of the abandoned waterfront factories would be a better target? Then again, I couldn't see how they wouldn't have already been picked over. It had been years after all.

Shrugging, I sat down and opened my geometry book. I might as well study for a couple of hours. I could worry about everything else later. For now, I had to catch up on what I missed in class thanks to the bullies.

I worked on geometry problems until Dad came home and realized I hadn't packed away my book on metals or cooked dinner. I started to slip it under my geometry book so he wouldn't see the title, and then stopped. Why hide it? If Dad asked, I'd just tell him I was thinking about studying engineering in college. That would also hide a lot of other potential slip-ups as well.

I was pleasantly surprised when Dad suggested pizza for dinner, to celebrate my removal from Winslow. While I wanted a Hawaiian pizza, Dad ordered a meat lover's, as he tended to do whenever we could afford it. Mom had always been contrary and had ordered a veggie pizza when she was alive, leading to some good-natured arguments between them. I missed hearing them do that.

I was in stitches after Dad told me about Blackwell's reaction to what he had done to her school. The Board of Education was probably going to come down on her like a ton of bricks. Schools nowadays might have a lot of students but if seventy kids from all grades withdraw from the same school at roughly the same time, it was going to raise red flags all over the place.

Couldn't happen to a group of nicer people, I thought darkly.

"So, aside from kicking ass and taking names at my old watering hole, how was your day?" I asked.

Dad shrugged. "Okay. Nothing special happened. Oh, I am pretty close to getting the Union a contract to help with the urban renewal project in the dockside factories."

My interest peaked, I asked, "Oh? Are they safe to work on?"

He made one of those twisty motions with his hand, indicating that a little of each. "They aren't too bad, plus we'll be taking safety precautions, so we can do it," Dad said.

This was interesting I thought. Diffidently, I asked, "How do the workers deal with the stuff that they find in those places? I've heard that there's a lot of different materials lying around in those places. Some of it's just stacked up."

Dad nodded approvingly. "You're right, especially in the old ship repair dry-docks in E88 territory. We have a look at the blueprints we have access to, and then send in a team to survey the place before any decisions are made. Then, regardless of what the job is, rebuilding the place or knocking it down, we empty the place out and store the materials in the Union's storehouses or the client's own storehouses. Then we get to work."

I nodded my understanding. The Union's main offices and storehouses were behind a two-meter high wall with spikes on top of it. With the gates closed at night, only a Cape stood a chance of getting in without bashing the gates in. None of the villain Capes bothered with the Dockworker's Union aside from poaching its members.

"I hope you get the contract, Dad," I said sincerely.

"Thanks, Taylor," he said with a smile.

I went to be that night with several goals in my mind. First, I had to get my hands on some new tools so I could have something to build my Tinkertech gadgets with. Second, I had to find a location to use as a base, away from my home and preferably close to water so I could defend it. Third, I had to raid a factory to hopefully obtain titanium.

 **+++Waterworks+++**

"Dad!" I called out to him as I came into the living room the next day. "We need to talk."

"Yes, Taylor?" He looked up from his paper. He was relaxing before heading out to work.

"We need to get some new tools for working around the house," I told him frankly. "The drill looks like it's about to fall apart, the saw's rusted to pieces, and the hammer isn't much better."

Dad sighed. "Darn. I was hoping it wasn't that bad. I'll ask around at the Union if anyone has some second-hand tools we can use. I keep forgetting to fix that rotten step as well."

He was muttering to himself as he left, presumably about the rotten step that had been a bane of our lives since before Mom died. He had been meaning to fix it for over two years by this point.

I knuckled down to my studies again, this time tackling World Affairs, glad I didn't have to deal with that creep, Mr Gladly, anymore. He was the kind of teacher who tried to get you to call him 'Mr G' and was probably a hip and cool kid when he was in school himself and had never had to deal with bullying himself.

Breaking for lunch, I settled for a sandwich. Afterwards, I jogged again, this time going slightly further. I was close to my old level of fitness; that is to say, not fit at all. Time to change that. Once my leg was fully healed, I'd try to go jogging twice a day. For now, I'd settle for just being able to walk or jog a mile without it burning and aching.

Once I got back in and had something to drink, I got my sketchpad and pencil out again and drew what looked like a funky looking thing out of science fiction in the seventies. Seriously, it looked like something the villain in a bad hero comic would steal and then gloat over how it would help them take over the world, or some such garbage.

What the hell was this thing, I wonder? Then, as if the answer just appeared in my head, I knew. A water repulsion generator unit. What an odd thing for my power to have me draw out.

Why would my Tinker power create the design for something that rendered my Hydrokinetic power useless? I let my mind wander and my pencil followed a path dictated by my power. When I looked down at my pad again, I saw small devices that looked as if they could be fixed around a door attached via wires and cable to the main generator unit.

"A way to keep water out so you can live underwater," I breathed. Then I frowned. Was my intuition trying to tell me to have my base underwater? Seriously? I wasn't sure that was such a good idea.

The Protectorate Base in Brockton Bay was inside of The Rig, an old oilrig moved to the centre of the Bay and repurposed to house their Parahuman members, such as Armsmaster. I honestly didn't know what else was there; just that it was a No-Fly Zone for non-Protectorate or PRT aircraft. Still, with Armsmaster there, I didn't doubt that he had a way of keeping an eye on the coastline of the Bay, so I couldn't dare have it anywhere near that area of the bay.

The Boat Graveyard, on the other side of the bay, might be a possibility.

Looking back down at my pad, I saw that I'd sketched what looked like a cross-section engineering drawing of a ship from the graveyard, half submerged in water. The inner decks had been divided into a series of rooms, with the submerged lower decks of the ship now clear of water, thanks to about half a dozen of my new water repulsion generators.

I understood them a bit better now. If left without direction, they did remove water from an area and render a hydrokinetic the next best thing to powerless. If I tied them to a focusing array like the one I had just designed, the energy acted as a skin-thin membrane that was absolutely impenetrable to water or any water-based thing, aside from living creatures. A human walking through it would have all the water on the surface of their clothes and skin removed, but not any within the cells of their body, or even the dead cells of their hair.

The best part was that a generator could be made from what you could buy in an electrician specialty store, although units made this way using lots of commercially available parts replacing custom designed and built parts were a lot bigger. It was a brute force method that pushed the size of my water repulsion generator from around twice as big as a hardback novel to just under that of a small electric generator, probably about twenty times the size.

I settled back in my seat. Well, that was that. It looked like once I was at least somewhat fit, I needed to head for the Boat Graveyard, now for more than one reason.


	4. Interlude - Danny's Revenge

"Damn you Sophia!" – Speech

 _'Why Emma?_ ' – Thought

 **Interlude X.1**

 **+++Danny+++**

I sighed as I drove off from my home. Taylor had finally stopped being stubborn about being home schooled and I had made an appointment today to see Principal Blackwell in order to begin the withdrawal procedure, as well as to give the woman a piece of my mind.

The day Taylor woke up in the hospital, she had told me everything about what had happened to her and I was both angry and disgusted, not just with the teachers of the school, but at myself. I had let this happen to my daughter.

When Annette died, I had collapsed like a house of cards under the weight of my pain, barely able to function as a person, let alone a father. Taylor had been as bad, if not worse, if for no other reason than because she blamed herself for her mother's death.

But my daughter had shown herself to be a stronger person than I. Emma had helped her to heal a little, while I'd avoided responsibility by sending her off to summer camp to recover on her own.

Something must have happened to Emma when Taylor was away, because she'd broken off their friendship as soon as she came to visit her after finishing camp. The bullying itself started as soon as the girl had ingrained herself into the popular crowd at school.

The other two main participants, Sophia Hess and Madison Clements, were mostly unknown to me. I was certain that one, or possibly both, of the girls had something to do with Emma turning against her lifelong best friend.

The things Taylor had told me that day sickened me. The destruction of her mother's flute, the use of secrets that Emma had known against Taylor; I was certain that I wouldn't have coped nearly so well against such pressure for the length of time my daughter had. Of course, the locker incident had been the final straw.

The fact that the staff at Winslow either completely ignored what was going on, or required proof that couldn't be produced to act, incensed me beyond belief. It also made me wonder _why._

My old friend Alan Barnes, while a powerful attorney and very protective of his daughter, Emma, couldn't have made the staff turn a blind eye. Through the grapevine, I knew that Michael Clements was a mid-level manager at one of the city's few surviving factories, so it was unlikely he had anything to do with it.

By process of elimination, that led me to Sophia Hess. I hadn't been able to find out much about her, but the little I had discovered was depressing normal for Brockton Bay. A mom, two siblings, and a father who was deceased. There was some kind of deadbeat boyfriend, who sponged off what little money her mother made as a secretary working at an office Downtown.

I couldn't see why anyone would make allowances for Sophia Hess. Her being on the track team didn't seem enough. Did the girl have gang connections? Could the teachers be afraid of her?

In the end, it didn't make sense. Alan Barnes would never allow his precious daughter to associate with a gangbanger. Also, Empire 88, with their strong Aryan ties, would never tolerate a black girl. The ABB were entirely Asian in make-up, while the Merchants were a bunch of drug users. Sophia Hess was a star athlete, one who almost certainly didn't use drugs.

Could she belong to a smaller gang? There were a few around, but Empire 88 and the ABB were notorious in keeping the reins of power within the city, so they tended to stay small. I also couldn't see a gang smaller than those three managing to intimidate the staff at Winslow

Regardless of whether or not it remained a mystery wasn't important. If those three girls, or their parents, thought that this was over, they had another thing coming. No one hurt my little girl and got away with it. I'd definitely keep on digging until I found out what the hell was going on, because something was definitely rotten in the state of Denmark. But for now, I had a plan to deal with the school.

Pulling up into the parking lot behind Winslow, I locked my car up and headed inside.

"Excuse me, I'm Danny Hebert," I said to the receptionist, a sallow woman in her thirties who smelled strongly of Tic-Tacs. "I'm here for my appointment with Principal Blackwell."

"Please sign in," the woman said disinterestedly, waving at a book on my side of her desk.

I gritted my teeth, but managed to keep my peace. Really. Just how unprofessional were the people in this school?

Signing the book, I noticed the woman rifling through a drawer and pulling out a visitor's pass. I had to wonder why they bothered. All of the school's metal detectors were broken and had been for at least four years. Ditto for the security cameras in most parts of the building, according to Taylor. Anyone could get in and out without being seen if they knew about them.

I chalked that up as another black mark against Winslow. No way was I allowing my daughter to come to an unsafe environment like this again.

After signing in and getting the visitor pass from the apathetic receptionist, I had to sit and wait. It was over half an hour later that the receptionist finally called my name. Getting to my feet, I headed to my meeting with Principal Blackwell.

The woman in question was dressed like she was attending a funeral, her austere black outfit depressing me. That, combined with her severe bowl-shaped haircut and narrow, horse-like face, made her look more like a turn of the century governess from one of Annette's novels rather than a high school principal.

"Mr Hebert." She greeted me with a nod and no handshake, yet another mark on my mental chalkboard. "What is it that I can do for you?"

"I am here to inform you that I consider this establishment sub-par and have decided to withdraw my daughter immediately," I said bluntly, making her sit up from her slight slouch in shock.

"Why would you want to do that?" Her puzzlement was so disingenuous that it seriously pissed me off.

"Do I need to even explain why?" I asked in disbelief. "Whether you are willing to admit it or not, my daughter has suffered fifteen months of persecution, harassment and bullying, all of which was either ignored or brushed off by your staff. Her mother's flute, a family heirloom, was stolen from her locker here at school and destroyed. Her school work has been stolen and destroyed, again often taken from her locker, despite her changing locks. Most damning, do I need to remind you about how she was hospitalized after being confined in her locker for the better part of two days?"

"None of those allegations have been substantiated," Blackwell shot back, an easy confidence behind her words.

"That's because almost the entirety of your student population was either actively participating in the bullying or tacitly consenting to it through inaction," I replied flatly. "Let there be no misunderstanding here, I know that something is making you ignore my daughter's plight. I have no idea what it might be, but I suspect it has something to do with Sophia Hess."

It was a shot in the dark, as I didn't have any real evidence, only the merest shadow of a suspicion. However, the way Blackwell whitened at my words was as good as an affirmation that I was right.

"Right on the money, aren't I?" Glaring at the woman who had been part of the organized bullying of my daughter, it was all I could do not to strike her. Taking a deep, calming breath, I said, "I have no idea why you seem to be so bent on taking her side, but I will find out. When I do, you had better damn well hope that it is a damned good reason. Otherwise, I will have it plastered all over the news and the internet faster than you can say 'social media'. Am I clear here?"

The woman, looking pale and angry, nodded silently.

"I also have this to present to you." I pulled out my trump card in my quest to get at least a little revenge on the school on Taylor's behalf, a couple of folded sheets of paper.

Blackwell took them from me, but didn't to look them over. "What exactly is it?" she asked.

"The first is a notice from the Dockworker's Union that all of teachers at this school will be receiving formal complaints directed at them through their own Union Membership," I said with a hard smile. "The second is a list of signatures of every parent in the Union who has children attending this school. They're sitting below a statement that indicates that they will be withdrawing them from Winslow."

This made Blackwell hurriedly open the papers and move to the second sheet. Reading it made her skin turn whiter by the second.

"You cannot be serious!" she croaked as she looked up at me. "This is over fifty students! Do you have any idea with this will do to our funding? Our standing in the community? We'll have to lay off staff!"

"A little closer to seventy, actually," I corrected her. The Dockworker's Union was currently made up of little over three hundred members, most of them family men and women. They came from all over the city, but more than a few made their home in the Boardwalk and the Docks areas, sending their children to Winslow as the closest high school.

Before the Boat Graveyard had been created, the Dockworker's Union had had over twice its current membership, but the years hadn't been kind to us. Still, even seventy kids being withdrawn at the same time from the same school should have the effect that I wanted.

"Are you _trying_ to get the Board of Education to investigate my school?" Blackwell cried, her fear and anger creating almost a tangible aura around her. I wasn't generally someone who took pleasure in the suffering of others, but in this case seeing her so flustered was as sweet as the finest wine, to quote a book that Annette had read to me once.

"Looks like you are quick on the uptake," I commented helpfully, a dark smile on my lips as I stared at the distraught woman. "That's _exactly_ what I want. This school is a disgrace and it is high time the Board of Education did something about it. Consider this justice for what you people let happen to my little girl."

"But… but…" the woman seemed to be grasping at straws for a moment. "Where will they attend classes? They have to be taught!"

"In regards to that, a number will be home schooled, while a select few have qualified for academic placement at Arcadia," I replied. "The rest will have a teacher brought in to teach them at a central location to be determined within the next two days. Everything's perfectly legal, or so I am assured by a lawyer of my acquaintance. One who is _not_ Alan Barnes."

The way she seemed to deflate told me that she knew there was nothing she could do stop this from happening.

"That was everything that I had to say, Principal Blackwell," I said, my tone still pleasant. "I would say 'have a good day,' but under the circumstances, I can't see how that's even possible."

With that, I stood up, adjusted my tie, and strode out of the room, a feeling of satisfaction welling up from within me. It wasn't nearly enough to make up for what Taylor had endured for over a year and a half, but at least it was a start.

Taylor was a very smart and driven young woman and I wouldn't put it past her to be able to earn her GED within a year. She had inherited all of the brains and drive of her mother. The only thing she seemed to have inherited from me besides some of my looks, was my stubbornness, not something I saw helping her in school.

I tossed the visitor's pass onto Miss Apathetic's desk, then signed out and headed to my car. As I stepped out into the sunlight, I felt lighter than I had since I had found out about everything that my daughter had gone through.


	5. Drop 1-4

**Author's Note: Well here we are, chapter 4. This is a bit sad for me, as my Beta for this story, becuzeitswrong, passed away of a heart attack in September. This was the last chapter he beta'd for me just a week and a half before he passed, so if you could review it, I would be grateful.**

 **That being said, I am now in need of a new Beta, so if you think you can step into becuzeitswrong's shoes, PM me. As I am from Britain, someone who is knowledgeable with daily life in America, where Worm takes place for the most part, would be preferable.**

 **RIP becauzitswrong.**

"Damn you Sophia!" – Speech

 _'Why Emma?_ ' - Thought

 **Drop 1.4**

 **+++Taylor+++**

It took me three weeks to be confident enough in my health that I regularly hit the Boat Graveyard to work out. After a week there, I added parkour to my repertoire, the large ships with their tight interiors and maze-like topsides perfect for pushing my movements. It was incredibly tiring at times and made my muscles scream in protest at the abuse they suffered, but the results were completely worth it. Or so I told myself when dragging my aching body home afterward.

The scalding hot showers in my bathroom upstairs really helped, too.

I also occasionally snuck out of the house at night in order to practice parkour in my civilian identity as well. It was easy to be relatively anonymous in the evening. The last thing I needed was for people to wonder why that Hebert girl was taking up parkour, then somehow connecting it with the new hero flying around and, oh, coincidentally, using parkour-like movements when moving around on the ground.

So, here I was again, out in the middle of the Boat Graveyard. This place was creepy as hell, what with the myriad of huge rusting hulks of ships partially sunk into the water. It had been created as an act of protest shortly after it had been apparent that the shipping industry in Brockton Bay was dying as a result of Leviathan's control of the seas and that there would be some serious layoffs all over the city, especially in the Dockworker's Union.

As a result of the layoffs, strikes happened. Present in the city at the time were a bunch of very angry people, as well as some very stupid people, but the worst was the small group that combined anger and stupidity to an extreme. Those were the people who hijacked a handful of ships, took them out into the mouth of the harbor, and sunk them, blocking the harbor mouth. It not only kept any new ships above a certain size from coming in, but it trapped there the hundreds of ships that were already present, they having fled to Brockton Bay to escape the threat of Leviathan only to find a threat of a different kind here.

The closing of the harbor killed off any remaining import/export businesses that were left in Brockton Bay and left the Docks a mostly deserted mess of warehouse space with the occasional boarded up factory thrown in. Lastly, it left even more people out of work as the Docks closed down completely. Thus the 'stupid people' part of the earlier comment.

This all happened when I was a baby. I only know as much about it as I do because Dad had to testify at the trials of the ringleaders of the 'Boat Sinkers' and was grousing to mom about it one time when I was six. As it turned out, six didn't mean stupid, and I still remembered his words to this day.

I was currently taking a cautious approach to moving over the water, using my hydrokinesis to keep afloat and make sure to keep away from any of the ships that looked as if they were too unstable. The interim costume I had collected still wasn't fully complete, so I wore a pair of dark jeans instead of the pants I wanted and a pair of old sneakers that were barely holding together, the sole of one forlornly dangling half off of the rest of the shoe.

Tonight, I was looking for one ship in particular, the one that my power had used as a template for the diagram of my soon-to-be base. It didn't choose just _any_ ship to use for my design; it chose a massive cargo transport ship, one that the leader of the idiots who had created the Boat Graveyard had sunk personally.

At first, I hadn't realized that my power had used an actual vessel from the Boat Graveyard. But the shape that I had drawn on the paper had been hauntingly familiar from middle school lessons. It had only taken me a moment longer to recognize the shape there was that of an actual ship out in the harbor.

It was the MS _Evermore_ , a general cargo vessel powered by a pair of huge marine diesel engines. Not a super tanker or anything, but it was still plenty large enough for me to gut the thing and make my own base inside, without anyone on the outside being any the wiser. It also had another advantage, a big one.

Most ships here in the Boat Graveyard had been picked over by the authorities, or one of the gangs, like the Merchants, the ABB, or Empire 88. However, the _Evermore_ was anchored at the far edge of the Graveyard. Far enough away from the other ships that it would have taken hiring another ship in order to salvage it, an act which none of the gangs or the authorities could apparently either afford or be bothered with, so it had lain fallow there for over a dozen years.

All the more salvage for me, I thought in glee.

As I crept around the rusted hulks of the various ships, I began to question my decision. All of these ships were wrecks that were a few years away from crumbling to pieces. I really wanted to build my base in one of them?

My Tinker ability smacked me squarely in the back of the head and made its opinion clear… yes, I did.

Ignoring the incipient headache I could feel building, I spotted my destination at last. The command tower was painted white, albeit with numerous patches of rust scattered across it, but not the hull.

The ship's hull, which should have been painted a bright, cheery blue, and likely as rusty as the ship's superstructure, was mostly concealed beneath the waters of the bay as it rested there upon the bottom, a testament to the demented determination of those who had sank it.

I could just barely see the hole in the stern that had sunk it, peeking up out of water and likely extending far beneath it. Far too damn large to be even the result of a collision, the hole had been caused by the ship's crew and a handful of dockworkers aboard using explosives to sink the ship. Opening the bilge pumps would have done much the same thing without wrecking the ship's hull like that. Then again, they were trying to make a statement that no one would ever drain and raise the Evermore. That it would never again sail the world's oceans. At least, that is, without a great deal of difficulty and expense, so that was probably the reason for the overkill right there.

Taking a breath, I stopped using my water walking and plunged into the cold ocean beneath me. Forcing myself not to yelp at the freezing cold, I reached out and quickly heated the water around me until it was at least as warm as my skin, a much more pleasant sensation, and one that avoided the annoying issue of hypothermia.

Sinking down beneath the waves, I experimented for a moment with how to propel myself without swimming. I was ungainly in that regard, which made my having water powers somewhat of an irony. Still, being a great swimmer should be unnecessary when you had water manipulation powers like mine.

After a bit of experimentation, I found that I could jet water from the soles of my feet, acting like a jet ski's hydrojet. I had to throttle it down, though, after my first attempt almost sent me headfirst into the side of the _Evermore_. Getting knocked out and drowning when you were a hydrokinetic would be the height of stupidity so I was a lot more careful afterward.

Still, being able to zoom around underwater was cool. I did restrain myself from playing around (at least too much) as I was there for a purpose. Speeding towards the Evermore, I circled it once before entering via the immense hole in the stern. What the heck had they used to do this, I wondered? Dynamite?

It took me a moment to find a ladder leading up, ladder in this case actually meaning stairs since I was on a ship. Emerging from the water next to a wide open hatch leading to the next compartment, I staggered out of the sea and used my powers to draw the water from my hair, clothes, and off my skin, dumping it back to where it came from and then pulling a flashlight from a sealed plastic bag.

Note to self: invent waterproof flashlight. Or at least buy one when I could afford it.

The ship's hull was welded steel from the records I had searched online. Typically, ships built like that were meant to last about forty years before being scrapped. Even better, the Evermore had only been built a year and a half before it had been sunk twelve years before. Forty minus thirteen and a half hopefully meant twenty-six and a half years left before it might become untenable to inhabit. More than long enough for me.

Of course, how much time had been removed from the ship's life by being more than half submerged in the corrosive salt water of Brockton Bay's harbor remained to be seen.

As I explored the ship, I mentally logged possible useful items that were lying about, for raw materials if for nothing else. I made a mental note to find a way to melt down metal without compromising the hull any more than it already had been. I would have to be careful not to salvage anything important to the ship's integrity. All else would be fair game.

Soon enough, I came across a series of large rooms, the main cargo holds. Each contained several dozen cargo containers, most of which appeared intact. From my reading, I knew that container ships like this one had several different holds, laid out sequentially, each designed to hold twenty and forty foot containers using a rail system. The containers I could see all appeared to be of the smaller size, not that I minded as that just meant there were twice as many of them.

I had hit paydirt.

I hadn't been able to find out exactly what the cargo was that had been loaded onto the _Evermore_ while it had been docked at Brockton Bay on the message boards I'd perused. However, considering the number of zeros that the insurance company had been rumored to have been forced to pay out, it had to be something valuable. One poster had put it at well over forty million dollars.

It made me wonder why Alexandria, Eidolon, or even Glory Girl hadn't just picked the cargo up. Or even another cape from another city. Alexandria was the strongest flyer in the world and combined with Eidolon's ability to use any three powers generated at random, it should have been relatively easy for them. Glory Girl wasn't in Alexandria's league, but she was easily able to pick up a truck, which was roughly something similar to how heavy one of these cargo containers were, so she, too, could have salvaged this at some point in the past.

On the other hand, Glory Girl was only a couple of years older than me; she hadn't gotten her superpowers until her freshman year of high school. By the time she'd gained her powers, it was unlikely that anyone living in Brockton Bay really remembered the _Evermore_ ; it and the value of its cargo pretty much forgotten.

Seeing that the bottom of the holds were flooded with highly corrosive saltwater, I decided to tentatively write off the bottom two sets of containers as too damaged to be of use. Once I'd cleared all of the water from the ship, I'd investigate them further, but for now the three upper layers of containers were a far better bet.

Carefully stepping through the hatch, I waved my hands at the water, and it flowed to the side. Some of it I shaped into a set of stairs, which I then made as solid as steel. Climbing down the ladder on the side of the hold, I approached the steps I'd just made with a certain amount of trepidation. I climbed them tentatively at first, then with more confidence. A moment later, I reached the topmost container and regarded it. No way was I going to be able to open the locked steel container with my weak and puny arms.

Calling a pair of… tentacles? Tendrils? Whatever... out of the water, I used them to break the locks, then to unlatch the door and tug it open. Revealed by the opening and the light of my torch was a load of…

"Solar panels?" I whispered aloud, eyes wide, as my Tinker sense kicked in to identify them.

I checked as many containers as I could and they were all solar panels. In every hold I went through. This was very good. Solar panels remained one of the more expensive commodities, still very much in demand. They were highly sought after in case of power outages thanks to Cape fights or Endbringer battles.

Additionally, with the disruption in the shipping trade caused by Leviathan, the rare earth metals they contained, things like indium and tellurium, made them almost more valuable to just salvage than to sell intact.

A smile crept its way across my face. I now had tradable goods.

Time to find a method to contact Toybox.

 **+++Waterworks+++**

The next day, while home, I took delivery of my new computer with its built in modem. Once I finished setting it up, I headed to the library and started the hunt for Toybox. Not that I thought it would take all that long as I considered the group.

Toybox was an organization of Tinkers who were unaligned to either heroes or villains. Instead, they acted as Rogues, selling their goods for a profit. They moved frequently and traded on the black market; goods for materials, services for the same. Many Tinkers who didn't join the Protectorate or weren't shanghaied by a villainous gang generally ended up with Toybox, for protection if nothing else.

One of their members in the past, Net Worker, had set up an untraceable website that protected the location of anyone trying to access the site, whether heroes, villains, or Toybox members themselves, as well as any outside party attempting to contact them. It was something only a Tinker who specialized in writing computer programs could do

This much I had gathered from the PRT's own website. Net Worker had hacked the website over five years before and made alterations to it so that the PRT couldn't remove the information about Toybox, something that no doubt angered and frustrated the upper echelons of the PRT.

That it had lasted as long as it had was a testament to the hacker Tinker's skill, as the PRT had many Tinkers themselves as members, some of whom who surely had at least a little skill with computers and programming.

Toybox's own website, once I had accessed it and made sure that no one else was looking, was very basic. The screen was split into four quadrants, each with a title; [Buy/Sell], [Join], [Trade], [First Time Buyers/Sellers].

When I clicked on the last icon, another window opened up asking me to state a reason for contacting Toybox, a contact number that was either untraceable or disposable and a date and time that I could be contacted at.

Ha! Way ahead of you. Dad had finally broken down and given me some money to get new cell phones for me and him last week, which I did. I also took the opportunity to buy a couple of cheap, burner phones for when I wanted to call in crimes to the PRT Hotline as a hero.

I quickly typed in all the required information, momentarily cursing the unwieldiness of mobile phone numbers, then closed the web browser down and headed home.

 **+++Waterworks+++**

Dad was in good mood when he came in from work, humming a tuneless song.

"What's got you so happy?" I asked as I set the beef stew I'd made for dinner on the kitchen table. "Lung finally get sent to the Birdcage?"

"Nope. The job the Dockworker's Union got awarded by the city, you know, the contract for one of the derelict factories?" Dad's face wore a wide smile as he spoke. "We've been hired to do _all_ of them!"

"That's great!" I almost squealed in joy. This would keep the Dockworker's Union working for six months at a minimum.

I ran over and gave him a great big hug, which he happily returned.

"What made the mayor do this?" I had to wonder at the man's motives. The current incumbent, Mayor Christner, was usually heavily biased towards the bigger companies, rarely ever throwing a bone to the Union.

"Turns out that the big companies have been spending too much time twiddling their thumbs and not enough time actually doing any salvage." Dad smirked. "So the mayor got sick of paying money for work that wasn't being done, kicked the fat cats to the curb, and asked us to do it for the same price as he was paying the big boys."

I gave him a smirk in return before it faded into a happy grin. Recently, Dad and I have become a little anti-establishment. Hardly a surprise, given the way that I had been screwed over for the last fifteen months or so. Not that we were anarchists, but I considered a little healthy distrust of the government and authorities to be a good thing.

"The downside is that I'll be working long hours to coordinate everything," Dad continued after a moment. "The Union hasn't had a contract this big in years, so nothing can be allowed to go wrong. I'll be early to bed and early to rise and I won't see a lot of you. Sorry, Taylor."

"It's okay, Dad." I smiled at him. "The Union... the _city_ needs this contract. Once you have everything shipshape, we'll have a father-daughter weekend. Grab dinner, do a little shopping, maybe even hit a carnival if one makes it to town. Sound good?"

"Sounds good," he agreed. "How are your studies coming along?"

I smiled at the question. "I'm either caught up with or have gone past the current point of my classes from Winslow. Aside from Chemistry, that is, as I'm still waiting on some of the materials. Once I get them, I'll do the same with it."

"That's excellent, Taylor!" Dad exclaimed happily. "Just goes to show how much that place was holding you back."

"It's just my work ethic," I demurred. "I try hard and I get results. That's all it is."

"It's still something to be proud of, Taylor," Dad told me in an earnest tone. "Most kids your age would coast along, doing the bare minimum needed. Your mother would be so proud of you."

I flushed at that last comment. "We should eat," I said, more to draw the attention off myself than because I was actually all that hungry. I was always uncomfortable in the spotlight. Something Dad understood only too well as he'd been the same at my age.

"Of course," he agreed with a knowing grin.

The next day, after Dad left for work, I put the battery and SIM card into the disposable phone I had chosen to use as my contact phone with Toybox. It wasn't much to look at, just a half inch thick silver-grey rectangle, its case made out of cheap plastic, but it would do. I was expecting Toybox to phone me just after lunchtime, so I got my morning jog and studying out of the way first, before getting out the last part of my plan, a basic voice changer.

I had no doubt that if Toybox wished to, they could easily find out who I was. What I was hoping for was that their famed neutrality would hold true. For years, ever since their founding, they'd refused to get involved in any hero/villain fights or even the Endbringer battles. They hated being double-crossed and threatened dire consequences on anyone who tried that with them, so I doubted they'd try anything with me either.

Still, there was no point taking chances. I set my phone next to the voice changer and pulled my drawing pad out. Its pages were now thick with designs for various Tinkertech devices, not all of them to do with water. I had found that for every three water-related tinker device I designed, I seemed to be able to design something else, such as a hard-light hologram projector or even a machine that pumped out handcuffs.

 _No way_ was I relying on zip-ties.

Despite my flippancy, it was actually much, _much_ harder to come up with a design outside of my specialty than it was to design something that lay within it. At a guess, I would say that difficulty would also definitely translate over to actually building the things I drew up as well, but it would still be worth it.

Currently, I was sketching the design for a device that formed water into a pellet that could be fired as it were a bullet. I was considering altering my suit design to include it when the phone finally rang. I jumped in surprise before grabbing the voice changer, switching it on, and answering the phone.

"Hello," I said cautiously, my altered voice coming out at a lower timbre than normal.

" _This is Cranial, from Toybox,_ " a voice answered. It was female and brisk. " _To whom am I speaking? Hero, Villain or Independent?_ "

"Independent," I stated, "For now, you can call me Waterworks."

" _Uh huh. Lame name, but whatever,_ " the woman replied. " _What is it that you want?_ "

"Would Toybox be interested in a ship's hold full of solar panels?" I asked, ignoring how rude the woman was being.

" _…is this a joke?_ " Cranial asked, her current tone far more serious than her earlier snarky one.

"I'm deadly serious," I said carefully. Clearly, she was interested, so I decided to go ahead and explain, "I seek to trade them for materials."

" _Ah. A new Tinker with a water specialization to judge from the name,_ " Cranial mused. " _Listen, if you are a new Tinker, you're better off joining a group. If not us, then the Protectorate or a villain group. Tinkers do not make good independents._ "

"So I've heard. Unfortunately, I have authority issues." Understatement of the century there. "Are you interested in my deal or not?"

" _Where did you get them?_ " Cranial asked.

"The _Evermore._ "

" _Those things? They'll be corroded and useless,_ " Cranial said, her tone incredulous. Evidently Toybox had a long memory for minutiae. One ship's manifest out of tens of thousands worldwide after twelve years had passed was ample evidence of that.

"Some will be," I admitted. "But those that were left sealed inside the containers and not underwater look to be in good condition. Tell you what, if you can send someone to Brockton Bay tonight, I'll show them the goods and they can report back to you about their condition."

″ _If this is a PRT or villain trap…_ " Cranial warned, her voice trailing off to let me spell out my own fate.

I did my best to interject sincerity into my voice, "Far from it. So? Can it be arranged?"

There was a distant murmur, although I couldn't make out any words as Cranial apparently talked to someone off to one side for a moment. When she returned to me, her voice was brisk, " _We'll be sending Dodge to you via teleporter tonight, twelve sharp. Where do you want to meet him?_ "

"The bridge of the _Evermore_. I'll be dressed in black and unarmed." I replied.

"Agreed," Cranial said shortly before hanging up.

I sighed in relief as I removed the battery from the phone and hid it again. That had gone far better than I expected.

 **+++Toybox+++**

Cranial put the phone down and turned to look at Bauble. "What did the lie detector say?"

"Never dropped below _98%_ on the truth scale," the other Tinker replied. "As far as she knows it, she's telling the whole truth. Plus, she sounds sincere. Even earnest."

Pyrotechnical, seated nearby, whistled. "Been a while since someone has been dead honest with us. Dodge, you up for a visit to the city of the sunken ships?"

"Yay," the man said flatly and sarcastically. "Why can't I just drop off someone rather than doing it myself?"

"Because only you can use your teleporter, dumbass!" Cranial shook her head in exasperation. "You still haven't managed to work out the kinks in it for other users. Last time you took someone along on a trip, they barfed their guts up as soon as you arrived at the destination. _Not_ the impression we want to make here.″

"Oh, right, that," Dodge admitted with a sigh. "What should I do once there?"

"Assess the goods: find out how much is still usable and how much will need to be recycled and what Waterworks wants in exchange for them," Pyrotechnical replied. "She's a new tinker, so she'll probably need a workshop set up. Offer her a place with us, although it sounds like she's planning on staying Independent."

"Got it." Dodge nodded. "What if she wants more than a basic workshop?"

"Depends on how many of the solar panels are in close to working order and how many we will have to recycle," Big Rig rumbled. The man was wearing a suit of powered armor and boomed whenever he spoke. "It also depends on what kind they are. If they're wafer-based crystalline silicon, give her a little leeway. If the majority is thin-film panels, give her whatever she asks for. She seemed confident that a lot of the panels were safe from water damage, so it seems likely at least some are undamaged."

"He could just take them, you know?" Glace, silent before now, drawled. "It isn't like she could stop him if she hasn't the tools to build anything."

"No!" Toy Soldier growled. "We don't _get_ screwed over and we don't screw our _customers_ over. That's the one rule everyone at Toybox adheres to. It keeps things civilized."

"Agreed." Cranial glared at Glace. "I was screwed over a dozen times before joining Toybox. It wasn't pleasant. I don't do that to people. If and _only_ if she tries to screw us over, we do something about it. Not a nanosecond beforehand."

"Whatever." Glace sauntered off.

"Keep an eye on her," Pyrotechnical murmured to Bauble. "When we put together the goods Waterworks requests, make sure she's away from them. She's so full of sour grapes I can smell them from here."

"Gotcha," the gadget Tinker replied with a nod.

 **+++Taylor+++**

The _Evermore_ had been pointing inward, towards Brockton Bay, when it was sunk. The view through the shattered and cracked glass of the bridge was quite something in my opinion. From here, I could easily see the lights of the skyscrapers downtown, as well as a general glow from the rest of the city.

I had donned my black clothing again, and had supplemented it with a basic face mask; spray painted black, with the voice changer taped to where the mouth was. A slipshod arrangement, but it was the best I could come up with on short notice.

"A good view isn't it?" a voice asked making my heart race. I managed to keep a cool exterior though and turned around to see a man… actually, a teenager, wearing a yellow and green costume.

"It is," I agreed easily. "Dodge, I presume?"

"Indeed. Waterworks?" Dodge asked, extending a hand.

"Yup. Pleased to meet you, Dodge," I replied and shook his hand. "Shall we get to business?"

"Direct. I approve." The other Cape nodded. "Lead the way."

Shrugging, I led him into the bowls of the ship and into one of the cargo holds, where the majority of the solar panels were kept.

"Okay, I am both impressed and shocked," Dodge said. "Impressed that you managed to claim them and shocked that no one else has made off with them before now."

I shrugged. "Empire 88 and the ABB have been fighting over the more juicy sections of the city for years now. Before that, all of the easy pickings were taken by them, the Merchants, or the government. The Evermore is way too far out in the harbor to salvage without a ship, a helicopter, a strong flyer, or hydrokinetic. Too expensive or too rare outside of the Protectorate. These days, I don't anyone really thinks about its cargo that much, probably thinking it was ruined by all of the salt water."

Dodge nodded. Flying wasn't the most common power. Couple that with another powerful ability that would allow someone to salvage the ship and it grew increasingly rare. Aerokinetics were the best bet after fliers, or a sufficiently powerful telekinetic.

"Anyway, let's get to looking over the goods you have on offer." Dodge rubbed his hands together.

I gestured at the water in the hold and it shifted to one side and formed a set of stairs again, leading to the container I had checked previously.

"Holy… You _are_ a Tinker, aren't you?" Dodge asked, shock discernible on the visible portions of his face.

I shrugged. "I am, but only as an accompaniment to my hydrokinesis ability.″

"Maybe a Blaster," the Tinker muttered. "How much can you control?"

"Last week, I experimented in the middle of the Boat Graveyard." I decided not to give out too much information to someone I didn't know that well yet. "I lifted quite a bit of the water in the Graveyard up into the air."

"Okay, you also have a Shaker rating with that ability," Dodge explained, excitement in his voice. "Christ. No wonder you want to be an Independent. Still, you do know that Independent Capes rarely last six months on their own?"

I sighed. "I know. However, the authorities really screwed me over recently. I'm not comfortable with the idea of being a Ward. And I _refuse_ to be a villain."

"What about joining Toybox?" Dodge asked idly as he traveled up the water stairs I'd made as if they were an everyday occurrence.

I tried to explain how I felt. "I live in Brockton Bay. This place is my home. I refuse to live like a nomad. No offense."

"None taken," Dodge replied with a sharp nod. "Let's see what we have here… ah-ha! A bunch of eight percent efficiency, two hundred and thirty watt panels."

"Is that good?" I asked, impressed that he'd recognized them right off the bat.

"About average," Dodge replied. "Only a few types of solar panels exceed nineteen percent efficiency, mostly Tinkertech ones. The main thing though is that your panels are wafer-based crystalline silicon. Not the most valuable. But if all of these containers contain the same kind of panels, then Toybox will be very interested. They look to still be packed up and sealed, so any water damage should be minimal. I'll have to check the other containers, but this appears promising."

He checked container after container and they were all full of the same type of solar panels, packaged the same way.

"I notice that all the ones you have showed me are from the first through third layers of containers," Dodge noted after a while.

"I'm reasonably sure that the ones on the two bottom layers are corroded or badly damaged," I admitted. "I would value them as less than useless."

"Let's have a look, just to be certain," he said with a shrug.

Nodding, I cleared the water further away from one section of containers and let him look inside.

Unfortunately, his opinion agreed with mine. "Hmm… smashed and corroded… only good for scrap."

The next few containers were the same. Only a handful of them were in any state to be used.

"The amounts that are in either repairable or otherwise salvageable condition in the bottom containers are about twenty percent," Dodge informed me. "Given the circumstance, that isn't too bad. Combined with the conditions of the panels in the top three layers, I think you have something Toybox is willing to trade for, Waterworks."

"Glad to hear it," I replied, trying to keep my excitement out of my voice.

"So, and this is the big question, what is it you would like in trade for these items?" Dodge asked. "One thing that we are willing to give you as a part of the deal is what we call 'the basics'. A set of basic tools and materials that any Tinker will need to begin construction of the devices."

My heart started beating hard. That was exactly what I wanted.

"That would be… brilliant," I managed. "I have some designs I've been working on, but haven't been able to build. And-"

"Ouch. You must be close to a Tinker explosion," Dodge sounded concerned at that.

"A what?" I asked.

"If a Tinker can't build for a certain period of time and yet has ideas coming to them, once they get the materials to build them, they tend to lose track of time," Dodge informed me with a grimace. "That's what we unofficially refer to as a Tinker explosion; an uncontrolled orgy of building Tinkertech."

I winced. ″Ouch. Thanks for the heads up. Anyway, I have a list of items I need to build my tech. Take it back with you and let me know what will be alright for a trade."

I took the list out of my pocket and handed it to Dodge, who opened it and scanned down my list for a moment.

"Looks like you're looking to make some kinda semi-power armor." he said softly, "Why not go the whole hog?"

"I can use water as a replacement for plate metal," I explained. As a demonstration, I levitated some water and shaped it into a flat square, then made it as hard as steel. "Here. Try shooting that."

Dodge blinked before drawing a pistol and attaching a silencer to it. I watched carefully as he kept the gun pointed away from me the entire time. A second later, he shot the water square exactly in the middle. The bullet flattened against the water, making only a slight dimple in it, which almost immediately smoothed away.

The Tinker stared at the square for a moment before turning to me. "Okay, I can see why you don't need full power armor. Why not ask for some jetpacks or antigravity field generators for flight?"

I hesitated a moment, then answered his question by coating my body in water and levitating myself into the air.

Dodge gaped. "You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me! Hydrokinetic Flight! That's totally out of Earth Aleph comic books!"

"Apparently it's also my power," I said as I lowered myself to the decking and shed the water.

He nodded briskly. "Okay. Sure. That gets you a Mover rating as well, just so you know. So far, you have Blaster, Mover, Tinker and Shaker ratings. Can you sense the water? Create it from nothing or the air? Convert it into ice or mist?"

Deciding I'd explained enough about my power to someone whom I'd just met, I merely said, ″Actually, I'll just let those things be a mystery for now. I will say though that I'm under the Manton Effect." I added that to show that I wasn't too dangerous.

"That's actually a good thing," Dodge said. "One Cape like Drought in the world is more than enough. Anyway, even if you can't do all of the things I mentioned, I'd say you're a very powerful Hydrokinetic. I'll add in a power testing protocol we 'acquired' from the PRT a few years ago. Anyway, this list should be pretty easy to get. It'll take some time to gather it though. This time next week sound good to you?"

I nodded. "Sure. Give me a ring on my phone at midday and I'll meet you back here that day to finalize everything."

"Sounds good," Dodge said. "Can you lead me back up to the bridge? My current teleporter can only teleport me to and from specific, pre-set, locations."

"Okay." I started leading him back the way we came. Deciding to find out if he was willing to give any tit for tat, I asked, "So what's your specialty?"

"Personal movement," he replied. "Not just teleporters, but reflex enhancers, rocket skates, flying skateboards… that kinda thing."

"Oh. Like Kid Win's floating skateboard." I remembered seeing a picture of it online.

Dodged nodded. "Pretty much. Though I really feel sorry for Kid Win. He has _Armsmaster_ as a mentor."

"Why's that so bad?" I asked.

"Armsmaster is anti-social, to put it politely," I could hear the grimace in his voice as he spoke. "The first thing he does with new Tinkers is tell them how 'crappy' their work is."

I felt my brows go up in surprise at that. In a tentative tone, I asked, "Would that be because of his efficiency specialty?"

"Probably, but the man has the subtlety and tact of a strategic nuke being used against a walnut when he does it," Dodge said with a laugh. "He is so exacting and demanding that I heard through the grapevine that he overworked Kid Win during his first six months as a Ward. Miss Militia had to say something to the local PRT and Director Piggot ended up ordering him not to push Kid Win as hard. Of course, Armsmaster didn't even understand what the problem was."

"That's awful," I said, and meant it.

"Yeah, and another good reason not to join the Wards if you're a Tinker in Brockton Bay," the Toybox Tinker added as we reached the bridge. "Now, I came in here, right?"

Looking around, I nodded. ″I think so.″

"Okay, then, see you next week. By the way, are you going to keep the name 'Waterworks'?"

"No," I admitted. "It's kinda just an interim name."

"Better pick another one soon," Dodge warned me. "Otherwise the PRT will put a label on you. And they suck at assigning names. Even worse, those names have a habit of sticking with you throughout your career. Think Chubster."

"I'll get right on it," I promised.

"See you later." Dodge pressed a button on his belt buckle and he just vanished.

 **+++Toybox+++**

"You have got to be kidding me," Cranial stated, looking shocked.

Dodge shook his head. "I shit you not. The kid has some of the strongest hydrokinetic powers I have ever seen. Blaster 6, possibly 7. Shaker 5, Mover 3 or even 4 and Tinker 4."

"Bullshit," Glace said flatly.

The green and yellow suited man glared at her before going over to a computer linked to a hologram emitter. "Look…in the last thirty-odd years since Scion's appearance, only about two hundred or so Hydrokinetics have Triggered." He brought up a list of those names with the hologram projector.

"Uh huh, and..." Glace agreed, her voice trailing off into a question.

"All of them have been either Blasters _or_ Shakers. Not both at the same time," Pyrotechnical put in as he studied the list. "That is what you were going to say, right?"

Dodge nodded. "Yup. The girl, who _must_ be a recent Trigger, can use hydrokinetic flight, manipulate water density until it is as solid as Tinker-made steel and lift what must be at least a few tons worth of water at once. When I say one of the most powerful hydrokinetics, I _mean_ it. The only hydrokinetic more powerful would be Leviathan with his Macrohydrokinesis. Most Hydrokinetics have barely been able to manipulate a few gallons at one time. That one Cape that works for Pepsi can barely control a single glass of that crap for their commercials."

"Linking her to old Levvie... not a good connection, dude," Pyrotechnic said uneasily.

"It's a fact; nothing more and nothing less," Dodge insisted. "The scales are completely different. Ordinary hydrokinetics are Chihuahuas, Waterworks is a Great Dane while Leviathan is a freaking Cerberus leading Mankind through the gates of Hell."

The room was silent for a moment.

"Hyperbole aside, what is your assessment of Waterworks' trade goods?" Bauble asked.

"We can definitely use them," Dodge firmly stated. "I'd estimate about eighty percent of the panels are still in good nick. The rest are only useful as either spare parts or to be melted down into raw materials. No thin-film panels, though, so rare earth metals are going to be scant in the salvage."

"Better than I'd expected from a twelve year old shipment," Toy Soldier remarked.

"The panels were stored inside of airtight containers and vacuum-sealed inside tinker-made plastic," Dodge replied, "I recognize the type of material; it was made by a joker of a Tinker called 'the Wrapper.' He died during an Endbringer attack about five years ago."

"Ugh… what a terrible pun," Glace moaned.

"Returning to Waterworks and her requests; can we have them assembled this time next week?" Pyrotechnic asked the room at large.

"The servomotors and titanium, yeah, definitely," Big Rig said with a nod. "The Basic Tinker Package should be easy as well. Why does she want Kevlar of all things?"

"She's making a kind of light powered armor, at least that's what I got from the shopping list she gave me," Dodge explained. "She doesn't need a full suit, thanks to her ability to make water as hard as steel, and she doesn't need a flight system, thanks to her ability to use hydrokinetic flight. This means that she can create a suit especially designed around her powerset and one that may even augment it to a degree."

Big Rig raised his brows in surprise. "Damn. Lucky that.″

Pyrotechnic nodded. ″Agreed. This is a good opportunity to get a combat-oriented Tinker on good terms with us. We've had some close calls with several Villain groups in recent years."

"Not to mention a few Vigilante and Hero teams," Glace added.

"Exactly," Cranial agreed. "We are Tinkers, but none of us have any combat related powers or specialties. If a powerful group like the Triumvirate or the Slaughterhouse Nine came for us, we have almost no way to protect ourselves except hiding. Dodge's teleporters are nauseating for everyone but him to use, but if we can build up goodwill with Waterworks, we potentially have a bolt hole with a powerful hydrokinetic as a guard if we need to bug out and hide in an emergency."

"Why the trust in someone Dodge has only just met?" Glace asked, her gaze cool and secretive.

"One, because she was probably the most honest someone has been to us in two decades, according to the lie detector records," Cranial explained. "Two, because she could have asked for far more than she has asked for. While that could be due to her lack of knowledge of the actual worth of what she had, I'm inclined to take it as generosity. And three, because Toybox hasn't had an emergency bolt hole in over five years. We need one, right now, before something goes wrong."

"Agreed," Toy Soldier grunted.

"I'm cool with it," Big Rig said, his voice still thunderous.

Looking from face to face, Pyrotechnical nodded. "Good. Start gathering the materials she asked for. I believe Waterworks needs to be a very satisfied customer in order for this to work."


	6. Drop 1-5

**Author's Note: Well, as of my last chapter, I was searching for a new Beta for this story…and now I have one. Give a cheer for BigCC, who has kindly stepped into the shoes left by becuaseitswrong, may he rest in peace. This chapter starts the rise of Taylor and is the penultimate chapter in the Drop Arc.**

 **Check my Profile for my Writing Schedule** _ **before**_ **you ask via PM or Reviews.**

 **On that subject, please review! Constructive criticism, without any cursing or insults, it considered very helpful. And please, check out my other stories!**

 **Beta'd by BigCC.**

" **Damn you Sophia!" – Speech**

' **Why Emma?' – Thought**

 **Drop 1.5**

 **+++Sophia Hess+++**

Shadow Stalker, or Sophia Hess as most people she knew called her, was not a pleasant person. She detested anything she saw as weakness and believed whole-heartedly that those who couldn't, or wouldn't, defend themselves deserved whatever happened to them. Obsessed with showing off her strength and not showing any form of weakness, she had become a vigilante after she Triggered.

This was not out of any sense of justice. Hunting criminals was merely an excuse for her to feel the rush of the hunt, the thrill of preying on those weak sheep that thought they could act like predators. With her Breaker powers and her skill with a crossbow, one of the few things she actually thanked her asshole dad for was teaching her how to hunt when she was a brat, she was unstoppable, the apex predator of Brockton Bay.

Until she took things too far, at least according to the PRT and the Protectorate, by pinning a man to a wall with crossbow bolts and leaving him there to die. The bastards had somehow managed to track her down and arrested her the very next time she had been out in costume. They had then given her a choice between facing a manslaughter charge and likely spending the next few years in juvie or joining the Wards as part of a 'reformation' program.

Given her options, the choice had seemed obvious at the time. Somedays Sophia still wondered if she'd made the wrong one

Being forced to act like such a goody-two-shoes was the most frustrating, teeth-gritting, rage-inspiring experience of her life. It had gotten so bad that, after just a week as a probationary Ward she had needed to find an outlet for her pent up stress or she would have likely done something that would have gotten her sent to juvie. Luckily, she found it in the form of a girl she'd 'rescued' a few weeks ago, one Emma Barnes. She only had one real friend, a wimpy-little beanpole named Hebert. So Sophia, who had saved her from a trio of ABB thugs, had spent the two weeks before the stupid bitch had returned from summer camp (and how lame was that, what kind of teenager goes to _summer camp_?) whispering into Emma's ear, turning her into an ally and Hebert's worst nightmare.

Shaping Emma into something half-resembling an actual predator had been…enjoyable, but what had **really** released her stress was the utter despair the four-eyed little bitch had shown when her 'best friend' had turned on her. After that Sophia had been hooked and Hebert, along with a few other weaklings, had become her personal chew toys. For the past fifteen months she, along with Emma and the tagalong Madison, had found and indulged in a variety of delicious forms of relief for her needs and through it all Hebert had remained her favorite target.

And thanks to her status as a Ward, the morons at school did nothing to get in her way and ignored everything she did.

Most of the prey fled after a few weeks of targeting, dropping out or joining one of the gangs for protection, but Hebert kept coming back for more. The sheer stubbornness she showed might have actually impressed Sophia if the weakling actually had the teeth to bite back, but instead she just kept taking it. It had become Sophia's favorite pass time, pushing the four-eyed bitch farther and farther until she broke

Unfortunately, the little runt had finally run off with her tail between her legs and withdrawn from Winslow after the locker incident, which was why Sophia was now bored to tears and her frustrations were rising again. For some reason without Hebert around to target the rest of the available prey at Winslow had become…unsatisfying. She needed new prey.

Either that or she needed to find Hebert again.

Sophia left the school after the bell rang and immediately headed for the PRT building and the Wards base within it. It was her turn to go out on patrol tonight.

Her lip curled into a snarl as she thought about her 'teammates,' a bunch of prey pretending to be predators. Just being forced to be around those weaklings and their do-gooder shit made her sick to her stomach. None of them had either the power or the disposition needed to be a real predator. Clockblocker could freeze someone in time by touching them. Good luck getting close, weakling. Gallant could fire energy beams that altered the emotions of his targets as well as having some kinetic force. Yawn. Kid Win was a Tinker, enough said. Vista, the only other girl on the Wards, could extend or bend distances. Big whoop! Aegis, despite being the closest to being a real predator when it came to powers, an adaptable physiology, flight, and enhanced strength, was so much of a by-the-book goody-good little sheep that just listening to him made Sophia want to jam a crossbow bolt somewhere painful.

She had heard that a newbie was joining the Wards, a guy called Browbeat, who could use telekinetically enhanced strength…that was affected by the Manton Effect and therefore couldn't be used directly against other living beings. Pathetic.

At best they were a bunch of dogs, predators tamed and used to protect the sheep. At worst they were hardly better than sheep themselves.

The moment she turned eighteen, she was quitting and getting the hell out of Brockton Bay and as far away from the loser brigade as she could.

She fumbled with her ID at a hidden entrance to the PRT building hidden in one of the lower levels of a nearby parking garage, swiped it across a concealed reader, causing a slab of concrete to smoothly slide to one side as the concealed door opened. The entrance was one of several that had been built so the Wards and Protectorate members who arrived in their secret identities didn't risk exposure when entering the Ward Base.

Stomping along the passage, Sophia scowled as she came to the second doorway, this one opened into a changing room near the Wards area of the base. She swiped her ID again and passed through the doorway. Heading to the female side, she quickly changed into her costume.

As she put her mask on, she smiled grimly. She may be forced to toe the line for now, but as soon as she turned eighteen she could start acting like a true predator again. Shadow Stalker was not a dog, she was a fucking wolf.

 **+++Taylor Hebert+++**

 _Hebert Residence_

The next couple of days after my meeting with Dodge of Toybox passed fairly quickly. I had finally gotten my hands on some tools…or I would in a few days. I checked the _Evermore_ every night, and I had even managed to get ahold of a few small cameras to make sure that no one snuck in and stole my merchandise before I could trade it to Toybox.

As for my regular studies, I was progressing well, even in chemistry now that the necessary equipment had arrived and I could complete my lab assignments. It still wasn't my forte, but my Tinker power did give me an insight into how the chemicals reacted. I even came up with a formula for condensing and compressing water into small tablets, ready to be rehydrated and used with the application of a simple chemical.

Mentally assigning that to 'interesting, but not useful' for the moment, I wrote down the results of the current experiment before grabbing my sketchpad and turned it to a new page. I hastily scribbled down the formula, and then drew the machine that would be needed to produce the tablets.

With what Dodge had told me about Tinker explosions, a part of me was starting to dread sitting down to my first session of Tinkering. Hopefully my power was minor enough to not affect me like that, or at least mitigate the effects.

My day-to-day schedule had pretty much settled down into a set routine: wake up early, make breakfast and a lunch for Dad, wave him off to work, go jogging, study, have lunch, go jogging again, study again until it was time to make dinner, spend time with Dad over dinner if he arrived at the right time, relax and go to bed.

I went out every night, making sure to practice using my power in the Boat Graveyard for the more finicky aspects that required concentration…flying, water walking and the like.

After discovering a half-full barrel of crude oil in the remains of the engine room, I experimented with my much weaker liquid matter manipulation. Compared to the amount I could manipulate with my hydrokinesis, which I'd estimated was about a 600 meter square area (roughly 2000 feet; close to the size of three city blocks!), my liquid matter manipulation could only control or affect slightly less than half of a barrel, less than 21 US gallons.

Further experimentation at home, usually used during the breaks I took between study periods, had let me know what I could control. Oil, milk, orange juice, soda and the like were the ones I had tried so far. Milk had actually surprised me as it was organic, but maybe my Manton Effect limitation only applied to water?

If that was the case, then I might be able to manipulate blood, which was certainly an unpleasant thought and not something I was interested in trying to use outside emergencies. Too villainy.

My range for liquid matter manipulation was also nowhere near as far as my hydrokinesis either. With hydrokinesis, I could stand on the bridge of the Evermore and manipulate water near the shore of the Boat Graveyard, whereas with liquid matter manipulation, I was limited to maybe five meters all around me.

I decided to keep this aspect of my power hidden until I really needed it. No point advertising all of my abilities all at once. Villains could be really sneaky, from what I've read on PHO, and it never hurt to have an ace in the hole.

Dad's new schedule of leaving early and coming home late had started as well and it had left him looking tired all the time. He seemed happy though. He keeps saying that if the city keeps giving the Dockworker's Union contracts like the ones they've been receiving recently, the city will get better.

I'd help as well, when I became a hero anyway. Patrols near the factories would stop Merchants and other scum from wrecking the factories that were fixed up.

Both Mom and Dad had wanted to help Brockton Bay recover from the depression that the steady decline of the shipping business had caused. The main cause of that was, of course, the fault of the Endbringer Leviathan. Every time he attacked a city, he sent waves all across the sea, damaging and sinking ships, destroying docks and killing people. Shipping goods by sea has dropped to an all-time low worldwide thanks to that monster.

Shaking myself out of my dark thoughts, I got up and headed for the kitchen. Checking the fridge and shelves, I decided that a quick shopping trip was in order.

The nearby grocery stores and seven elevens were all ones that I had scoped out and ruthlessly analyzed so we could get the best balance of cost verses quality and quantity. Fortunately, Dad was very conservative with the foods he ate, so I could make the same thing a couple of times a week, allowing me to buy in bulk.

As I headed out to the shops, I spotted two of the Wards, Shadow Stalker and Kid Win, on one of their 'publicity patrols' and stopped to watch them. Kid Win was flying using a skateboard that had…what was it…ah! An antigravity unit on the base of it. His red and gold uniform was an obvious homage to Hero, the greatest Tinker to have ever lived and one of the first and most famous members of the Protectorate.

Shadow Stalker leapt from roof to roof, her black costume and mask seeming a lot more menacing than the other Wards. I noticed something familiar as she ran from one side of a roof to the other…the confidence and superiority she exuded was very similar…to…Sophia…

"Oi! Shit for brains!" the former vigilante snarled, "Slow the fuck down before I put an arrow up your ass!"

"Dammit Stalker!" Kid Win groused as he complied, "You could have just _asked_ instead of threatened!"

Oh Hell.

I hurried away from the scene and finished my shopping in a blank panic before rushing home. I hastily put the food away before dashing up to my computer and doing a search on the net about Shadow Stalker.

Much to my horror, every image and video confirmed it. The way she stood, confident and arrogant. The way she stalked forwards, like a predator hunting its prey…it was all Sophia. The voice too…the voice, the few times that she spoke in press conferences, usually just a quickly grunted 'yes' or 'no' along with a few short speeches that were clearly written by someone else and forcefully recited from memory, was a complete match for that bitch as well.

Sophia Hess and Shadow Stalker were one and the same person.

This…explained _so_ much; everything just clicked together too perfectly for it not to be true. How she got into my locker no matter how many times I changed the combination, why the school ignored my complaints and turned a blind eye to anything she did. Dad had been right; Sophia was the cause of it all.

I spent the next few minutes staring blankly at the screen as I processed this latest betrayal by authority. I couldn't be absolutely certain that the Protectorate or the PRT had anything to do with keeping thing hushed up at Winslow, but they still put Sophia on the Wards, with apparently very little in the way of oversight if this happened on their watch and they didn't know about it.

They were either corrupt, uncaring, or completely incompetent; either way they couldn't be trusted.

Shutting the computer down, I mechanically began cooking dinner while internally debating whether I should tell Dad about Shadow Stalker. As I put the lasagna into the oven, I decided against it...for now. He would probably march up to PRT HQ and kick up a fuss. Regardless of whether they knew about it or not, the PR department would go into cover-their-asses mode and try to debunk any accusation I made. I needed solid proof of who she was and what she had done.

It would also bring a lot of unwanted attention on me and dad and risk them finding out about my powers and finding some way to force me into the Wards. After finding this out, I think I'd rather be a villain than join them.

No, it was in the past and in the past it must remain, I determined. No point reopening wounds that were already closing. Besides, I would be the best damn independent hero in Brockton Bay and make Shadow Stalker look like a sidekick by comparison.

…OK, so I'll be the _only_ indie hero in Brockton Bay, but that isn't the point.

Over the next few days, I prepared myself to make my trade with Toybox. I also decided to think up a new name. 'Waterworks' just made me sound like a crybaby. I needed something to sound tough, intimidating and strong. If it alluded slightly to my power, it was a bonus.

I decided on my new name after rejecting several other names that mixed my hydrokinesis with my Tinker abilities (Water Hazard, Hydro Pressure) or any that had completely misleading connotations (Wetware).

Riptide.

I found a little known comic from Earth Aleph that had one hell of a bombshell of a character with that name and hydrokinesis abilities. Plus, no hero, villain or rogue had that name, so I was taking it.

Hopefully, people would think I was a Tinker who specialized in water-related tech with a minor hydrokinetic power, rather than the reverse. If I kept to using the wrist-mounted blasters on my suit, that would reinforce the impression.

The question was, what should I do first? Set up my base or build my armor? Maybe I could do the Solomon thing and build a basic workshop before building my armour? Decisions, decisions…

Finally, the night came for me to meet up with Dodge again so we could conduct the trade. I pulled my make-do costume on for what I hoped would be one of the last times and set out across the town.

A thought struck me as I ran and leapt. I would have to travel to and from my base, which would require a costume or disguise a bit better than what I was wearing right now.

Adding that to the long list of items on my to-do list, I leapt into the water as soon as I came close enough to the waterside, speeding out to the _Evermore_ with the ease of long practice. I had already started memorizing the underwater areas of the Boat Graveyard as a precaution, but it wasn't an easy job. The ships still on the surface were only the tip of the iceberg, with numerous smaller fishing boats sunk in between the larger ones, not to mention fragments of other large ships where one had rusted to pieces and collapsed in on themselves.

The hole that was only half visible above the water in the stern was my usual way in and I sailed into it before pulling myself out of the water and getting dry with the help of my power.

Heading for the bridge again, I leaned against the shattered remains of the instrumentation consoles and gazed out at what I could see of Brockton Bay. The lights of the city, especially the PRT building, were quite beautiful.

"Amazing that something so pretty could hide such awful things, isn't it?" I asked aloud.

"So true." Dodge replied with a light nod. He had appeared next to me a minute or so after I arrived on the bridge. I wasn't going to be startled by the same trick twice.

"So, what's Toybox's opinion on my offer?" I enquired, somehow keeping the nervousness from my voice.

"We are interested." Dodge agreed, "The members of Toybox have looked over your shopping list and agreed to it in full. We've also added in a few extras."

He passed a folded piece of paper to me, which I quickly scanned. Everything that I had requested was on it…in slightly greater quantities than I'd requested along with some extra items I hadn't asked for…equipment for reshaping metal, a powerful laptop….

"This is…extremely generous of you." I managed to mutter out through my shock. I was also starting to get a bit suspicious as well.

"No offence, but you undersold the value of these solar panels." the Toybox Cape told me seriously, "We at Toybox pride ourselves on being honest with our dealings. We do not allow anyone to cheat us and we in turn do not cheat our customers. To not give you equivalent exchange here would be cheating you out of what you deserve, so we…adjusted your list."

"I-I see." I stammered out, still a bit surprised but my suspicions had been eased. "Thank you."

Dodge shrugged. "Meh. We non-aligned Tinkers have to look out for each other." he said dismissively before holding a hand out at his side, "Now then…three, two, one…"

Shortly after he said 'one,' a large bag appeared in his hand.

"Good, the timer works at least." I heard him mutter to himself, before he turned his attention back to me. "Right, let's get down to the hold. Time to start the trade."

Nodding, I led him down to the first hold. Once there, I quickly started clearing the water out again while Dodge took a handful of small gadgets from his bag and threw them into the air. They hovered for a moment before zipping around and attaching themselves to various containers around the hold.

"These are a new invention of mine, teleport homers." he explained, "They allow me to designate an item for teleportation to Toybox. I can only teleport objects as big as these containers ten at a time, but they should be enough to get all this sorted in half an hour or so."

The first ten containers on the top row vanished in a flash of blue light as he spoke, followed by another ten thirty seconds later. Dodge continued to toss teleport homers out until every container in every hold had one attached.

"Tinkertech is _so_ hax." I remarked with a shake of my head as the hold was rapidly emptied of containers. I gathered the water in the hold into a square next to me, which quickly grew to the size of a minivan.

"This is actually fairly basic by Tinkertech standards." Dodge replied with a chuckle, "Some Tinkers come up with really outrageous stuff, I think a good local example would that weirdo L33t."

"The Rogue?" I asked, vaguely recalling the video-game loving Cape on YouTube with his partner, Über.

"Ha!" Dodge scoffed loudly at that, "Those two might _call_ themselves Rogues, but they are anything but! Über and L33t are villains, make no mistake about it. From what we've managed to figure out, L33t is some kind of universal Tinker, meaning he can make anything, but only one copy of each, and even then they're either glitch-ridden or explode for some reason or the other. Über can learn any skill…mountain climbing, swordsmanship, welding, joinery…you name it, and he can learn it. Together, those two cause more trouble than they're worth."

"Huh…" I said in surprise.

"The only reason they've survived so long is that they're smart enough to ignore most of the other local villain groups. From what I've heard the Empire 88 and the ABB would kill them if they messed with them and the Merchants don't seem to care about the Unwritten Rules, so they'd go after them when they were at home." Dodge continued to rant.

"Wait, you know what the Unwritten Rules are?" I asked curiously. I'd only been able to find some vague references to them on PHO.

"Oh, right." Dodge groaned, whacking himself on his forehead lightly with the heel of his hand, "I keep forgetting you just Triggered recently, right? Okay then, they're fairly simple and straightforward so I don't think you'll have a problem. Number One: No unmasking capes or going after them when in their civilian identities or if they're off the clock. Number Two: No escalation. You fight a Cape; you immobilize them or knock them out. No unmasking or killing them unless there's a kill order involved, and even then it's frowned on by some. Number Three: No rape. Number Four: No involving another Cape's family if they aren't Capes themselves and definitely observe rule number one if they are. There are a few subtler little sub-rules, but those tend to be the biggest ones."

I nodded absently in thought, committing them to memory as best I could. "And does every cape follow them?" I asked curiously.

"A few don't, but it usually doesn't end well. Tends to put a very big target on your back; both from heroes and villains." Dodge replied uneasily, "The Slaughterhouse Nine, Nilbog, a couple of insane Tinkers are the few still alive that don't abide by the rules…and the only reason they're still alive is that they are all High-A or S-Class threats and have kill orders on them from the PRT and Protectorate. Anyone can kill them with no worries about legal action. Not something you want hanging over your head."

"Agreed." I shuddered at the thought of being in the same class as those people.

The Slaughterhouse Nine were a group of the worst Capes in existence. Murderers one and all, they killed without hesitation or mercy. The line-up had changed over the years, but the fear that their name invoked hadn't faded at all.

We then deliberately changed the subject and chatted about inconsequential things until all of the containers were gone.

"Right. Now to deliver your payment." Dodge said. He rifled around in his bag and pulled a boxlike device from it. He placed the device on the floor and pressed a button on the side before hastily backing off.

In a series of blue flashes, several large containers, approximately the same size as the cargo containers that had just been teleported out. But whereas those containers had been a dull blue with spots of rust, these new ones were white and brand new. Each had a symbol from the periodic table on it, designating what it contained; titanium, steel, plastic and several other supplies.

The next thing was a series of machines, the additional payment that Toybox had given me. All of them would be very useful when I was building my armor. I could feel my hands itch in anticipation.

The last thing to appear was a much larger container against the bow-side bulkhead. This one was half-again as big as the previous containers and was a dull red color.

Dodge pulled a remote from his pocket that had only two buttons on it, one red, one green, and handed it to me.

"Press the green button." he instructed with a grin on his face.

I quickly did as instructed, causing a whirring sound to emit from the large container as the entire side facing us seemed to collapse and the top retracted. Numerous lights flashed into existence as the portable lab, as I now realized it was, activated.

" _Greetings._ " a soft female voice said, " _I am TB-067B, a VA designed by the Toybox. Please state the name of my new owner._ "

"Thought of a new one?" Dodge asked in a whisper.

I nod at him, step forward and say loudly, "Riptide."

" _Acknowledged._ " The voice said, " _TB-067B is now under the jurisdiction of the Cape Riptide. Please state a designation for this unit._ "

Considering how much research I'd been doing on water-related entities recently it didn't take me long to come up with an appropriate name.

"Amphitrite." I stated. The wife of Poseidon, the Greek God of the sea, seemed appropriate.

" _Acknowledged. This unit is now designated as Amphitrite._ " the VA stated, " _Awaiting final release phrase from Toybox to complete transfer of ownership._ "

"Amphitrite, acknowledge transfer code 54321, authorization Dodge alpha, lambda, lambda, delta, omicron, nu, epsilon. Confirm full and complete transfer of ownership to the Cape known as Riptide." Dodge said clearly.

" _Transfer code 54321 acknowledged._ " Amphitrite said softly, " _Authorization code accepted. This unit is now sole property of Riptide._ "

"Well, that's everything you asked for, aside from the Kevlar." Dodge said with a nod, "We've been having a bit of trouble getting it together, but it'll be delivered within the next couple of days at most. I do apologize for that."

"I think I have enough to be getting on with." I said dryly, gesturing at the large number of machines and supplies I had to work with.

Dodge chuckled "Good point." he agreed with a nod, "I take it that this place is going to be your base?"

"Err…yeah…how'd you-?" I said.

"For a hydrokinetic, a location surrounded by water is ideal for a base." Dodge replied, "And really, why else would you be looking around the Evermore?"

He made a good point.

"One final thing." Dodge said as he withdrew an orange phone from his pocket and passed it to me, "This can only ring one number, that of Toybox. If you need anything further, contact us and we'll work out a trade."

"Wow…thanks." I muttered in surprise.

"Meh. You've proven to be a good customer and we love repeat business." the other Cape said with a shrug, "That and we value people who are straight with us. It's a rare thing."

After I escorted Dodge to the bridge and watched him teleport out, I returned to the hold and grinned.

Time to get started.


	7. Drop 1-6

**Author's Note: So, here we are at chapter six. It must be said that I seem to have some sort of flair for hydrokinetic powers and devices as I keep imagining more and more shit that Taylor can slap together, ranging from the comical to the 'Holy shit!' range. Hopefully my beta will stop me from anything** _ **too**_ **outlandish (even for Tinkertech) but no promises here.**

 **To answer a question from…was it two chapters ago? Probably. Anyway,** _ **no**_ **, I will not be changing the name of this fic. It will become evident why a few chapters down the road…Ok, more like a good dozen or so, but you get the idea.**

 **Anyway, to business then. Four of my stories, After the Chamber: Lord and Ladies, Code Geass: The Prepared Rebellion, Swordsaint and Zero no Tsukaima: Saito the Onmyōji have TV Tropes Pages, which I must admit is rather flattering for me. Granted, one of them is on a long hiatus, but it is nice to see. If anyone wishes to add to them, please do. I check in on them and I find it fascinating to see what I've put in my fics without knowing about it, consciously at least. And if you spot another one of my fics on TV Tropes, let me know.**

 **Please read and review! Check out my profile for my other fics and please check there for my update schedule, preferably before you ask in a review or a PM.**

 **Beta'd by BigCC.**

"Damn you Sophia!" – Speech

 _'Why Emma?_ ' – Thought

 **Drop 1.6**

 **+++Taylor Hebert+++**

It had taken inhuman strength of mind! It had taken an unequitable amount sheer willpower! It had taken unbridled determination! But I did, in fact, settle for setting up the materials containers so that Amphitrite, my new VA, could churn out some basic things overnight, as well as slapping some patches on the holes that had let water seep into the hold, then sending the water in the hold into another one.

Make no mistake, I wanted to start Tinkering, but I needed to get my workshop set up and secured _before_ I could let myself fall into a Tinker Explosion. Plus, the one item I wanted to make more than anything else required Kevlar to make, so I would have to wait until Dodge could deliver it before I could really get stuck in.

In her database of stock designs, Amphitrite had some security cameras that could be concealed pretty easily. They were about the size of a nickel and could adhere to almost any metallic surface, even nonmagnetic ones. It made my eyes widen when I realized that the one who had designed them had been the Tinker who was almost as famous as Dragon, Masamune.

Masamune was the only Tinker to have ever lived who could design and mass produce Tinkertech without maintenance issues or other problems. Even his designs could be used by other Tinkers without a problem.

I had to wonder how Toybox had acquired some of his designs. Had they paid him for them, or was it an exchange of services? Had he given them freely in order to help new Tinkers or had they been stolen? Given how fairhanded Toybox had been with me, I doubted that they had stolen them themselves, but I could see them buying them from someone else who had done the deed themselves.

Anyway, in addition to the cameras, I got my new Virtual Assistant to build a wireless modem and router so she could access the net. Again, it was something in her design database and it had enough encryption and defensive programming built in that it would need Dragon herself to hack into it, or at least two other code or electronic specialized Tinkers working in sync.

Toybox really _did_ give fair value for trade goods.

Heading back to my house was something I hadn't wanted to do, but I had forced myself to. I hadn't brought my notebooks or sketchbooks for one thing, and it was quite late for another. If Tinker Explosions were as bad as Dodge made them out to be, I wanted plenty of time to get it out of my system.

Speaking of time, I mused as I jogged along my street quietly, I really should find a quicker way of getting to and from my base. The running was all very fine and dandy, but it just wasted way too much time every night. My Tinker specialisation was, to put it in a single word, water. As long as it had anything to do with water, whether using it, manipulating it or working with or around it, I could design and build it.

High pressure water cannon? Already had a design for it.

Dehydrated water? Yes, it sounds contradictory but being contradictory is one of the least offensive things Tinkering can do to normal logic, and I already had a way to do that.

An Anti-Hydrokinesis Field Generator and Focusing Array? Got one already designed and ready to be built and it only peripherally had something to do with water.

I already had the blueprints all nice and ready for a set of hydroelectric generators that functioned by sucking manmade impurities out of the water and using them as fuel.

I also had the initial plans for a base that would initially be hidden within the wreckage of the _Evermore_. And from there I had more and more ideas on how to expand to eventually take up the entire sea floor within the Boat Graveyard (and underneath it as well).

Could I create a water-based vehicle? Hell yes. Just thinking of it and I had three rough designs floating through my head, waiting to be brought out and brought to life.

A grin crossed my face as I snuck into my bed and started to fall asleep. Things were going be very different in the Bay once I got set up.

 _The Next Day_

"Morning Dad!" I called out cheerfully as I snatched toast out of the toaster and started spreading it with butter, "Sleep well?"

Dad blinked at me blearily as he shuffled into the kitchen. He really wasn't a morning person if he'd had so much as a single beer the night before. Alcohol also made him sleep the sleep of the dead, which was another reason he rarely drank, save an almost habitual trip to the bar with some of the other Union workers once a month.

"Morning, Little Owl." He mumbled before yawning as he sat down and started to dig in to his breakfast, "You seem cheerful this morning."

"Had a nice dream last night." I said. It wasn't a lie, per say; I did have a nice dream once I got in, but I was simply not telling Dad everything. Lying by omission was the easiest way to deal with Dad, although even that made me feel a bit guilty.

"That's…that's good." Dad said, interrupted in the middle by another yawn, "Any coffee on the offer?"

"Three, two, one…yep." I grinned, having guessed that Dad would wait before asking. As I said 'yep', the coffeepot boiled and I picked it up, pouring a cupful of the stuff (I wasn't fond of it myself, me and mom both preferred tea) before replacing it on its stand.

"Here you go." I handed him the cup before sitting down and digging in to my toast. I normally had cereal of some description for breakfast, but I wasn't that hungry this morning, so toast it was.

"Ahhhh!" Dad eagerly gulped down the hot liquid, "Ambrosia."

"You should really dilute it with milk." I half-heartedly scolded him, "It's healthier for you that way."

"The second cup, yes I will." He agreed, "The first cup though…that has to get my neurons firing again, so I _need_ it black."

I rolled my eyes at that. It had been something that he and mom had argued about. Mom insisted that white coffee was good enough to wake him up by itself, with Dad insisting with equal measure that he needed at least the first cup black.

I missed her so much.

"So what's on the schedule for today?" I asked, trying to divert my thoughts away from that downward spiral. Things were looking good for me now; I didn't need another bout of depression to ruin it.

"Hmm? Oh, just more prep work for the factory contracts. That reminds me, they start next week. Can you have a lunchbox ready for me to pick up on my way out in the morning?"

"Sure." I agreed, "I'll leave your dinner in the microwave for when you come back too."

"Thanks, kiddo." He smiled at me before hurriedly finishing his breakfast, "Well, I'd better get going. Have a good day, Taylor. Have your chemistry supplies arrived yet?"

"No. I'm going to call the company to confirm they were sent on time." I scowled. They had cost a fair amount, including the postage, so they'd better have sent them out on time.

"Let me know if you need some parental backup on that." he nodded seriously, "Some of these companies don't take teenagers seriously."

"For good reason, I suppose." I sighed. Most teenagers, including myself sometimes, were idiots. I was just a little bit cynical about people my own age at the moment.

After Dad headed off, I got ready and went out shopping. I had some things to prepare for tonight and I needed supplies.

First, a sealable waterproof bag to carry my notebooks and sketchpads out to the Evermore. Thank you, military surplus store.

Second, a bunch of replacement tools for the rusty, useless and potentially dangerous ones that we currently had in the house. Dad hadn't been able to find any second-hand ones with the Union, so I had thrown all the ones we had at home in a bag to take to my base to break down for materials and made a list of what I had thrown out. Saws were easiest to get, as they wore down fairly fast and were far more disposable than other tools. That I bought new, the rest coming from a second-hand shop.

I was on my way to the third stop on my shopping trip when I bumped into someone and was knocked on my ass. Looking up, I saw that I had run into Glory Girl again…or rather, into Victoria Dallon as she was out of costume.

"Sorry!" she apologized as she extended a hand to help me up. When I took it and she pulled me to my feet, I saw that her sister Panacea, Amy Dallon, was with her.

She cocked her head when she looked at me. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" she mused.

"You beat up a couple of Merchants who tried to drug me." I reminded her, "Near a bus stop?"

"Oh…Oh yeah!" she brightened as she seemed to remember the incident, "Yeah, those guys are real scumbags. Had any trouble with them since?"

"Nope. Thanks again for your help." I said sincerely.

"It's the hero biz." The gorgeous girl shrugged, "Oh, this is my sis, Amy. Amy this is…?"

"Taylor Hebert." I filled in.

"Taylor." Victoria nodded firmly, as if she hadn't just been told my name.

"Nice to meet you." Amy nodded politely at me, "Shopping?"

"Home essentials." I nodded, "I'd better get going. I still have to do my daily schoolwork when I get back in."

"Nice seeing you again." Victoria called after me as I hurried off. It was nice to speak to her, when she wasn't hitting me with her aura.

 **+++Amy Dallon+++**

"She seemed pretty nice!" Vicky said as she waved at the retreating back of Taylor Hebert.

"I guess, although she didn't really say much." I replied with a small shrug. She did seem to be legitimately busy, so it wasn't really rude of her. Something she said popped up in my mind though. "Did she say daily schoolwork?"

"Oh yeah, she said last time that she was homeschooled." Vicky shrugged as if it wasn't important. And to be fair, it wasn't really. I had heard that Winslow had been gutted of upwards of sixty students, so I had wondered if she might be one of them.

"Maybe. Wouldn't blame her if she was." My sister answered when I voiced the possibility, "I've flown by the place and it's a shithole. Most of the students are either a member of the gangs or they're from poor families who have to put up with that crap. And I could _swear_ that a couple of ABB and Empire bozos that I've busted have been students there. If she isn't a gang member and she got outta that place to homeschool herself, all the more power to her I say."

I smiled as she spoke. This is what a _lot_ of people missed when they dealt with Vicky. Yes, she was headstrong, brash and more than a little reckless, but she was also sensitive, insightful and _smart_. She _wasn't_ a bimbo, regardless of what _some people_ called her.

"We'd better go, sis." I said, using the short form I rarely used, "My shift at the hospital starts soon."

"OK, Ames." Vicky said, a slight look of worry on her face, "If you get tired though, give me a call. I'm honestly worried by how much time you're putting in healing nowadays."

My gut started churning. If I cut back, Carol would give me another lecture on Cape's responsibility with their powers and I would feel bad and up my hours again-

"I'll be fine, Vicky." I told her, forcing a smile onto my face, "Tell you what, how about we go and get a smoothie or something after I get off shift?"

"You're on!" that blinding smile came out, the one I'd do almost anything for.

"It's a date then." I said with a far more honest smile.

 **+++Taylor Hebert+++**

 _Hebert Residence_

 _After Finishing Self-Study Work_

I had rushed around to finish my shopping after meeting with the Dallon sisters. I don't know why. I haven't committed a crime, aside from maybe squatting in the wreck of the _Evermore_ , so I didn't have anything to worry about.

A part of the reason was, I suspect, Amy Dallon. PHO said that she had the ability to totally understand the biology of anyone she touched. Even although she reputedly couldn't affect the brain, she had stated on several occasions, again according to PHO, that she _could_ in fact see the brain with her power. I honestly didn't know if Parahumans had any kind of physical differences in the body or the brain, but if there was, Panacea could likely detect it.

I had no desire to let anyone know that I was a Parahuman. The likelihood of Panacea, of all people, breaking the Unwritten Rules was minuscule to the point of ignorable, but I wasn't going to take any chances. So hands away from the world's greatest healer unless I was dying or something.

My phone call to the company that I had bought my chemistry supplies from had been slightly irritating because they kept me waiting for ages and I had to listen to _Stayin' Alive_ by the Bee Gees twice. They had shipped my stuff, but it had somehow gone missing en-route. They would of course supply me with a duplicate order at no additional coast and many apologies, blah, blah, blah.

"What a pain!" I muttered as I organized the bags I was taking to my base. The bag of tools, the sealed bag full of my sketchbooks and notebooks…was there anything I was forgetting? Ah, yes!

I grabbed the new alarm clock that I was planning on using to, hopefully, get me out of my Tinker Explosion if I sank too far into it. It was a simple clockwork one, but hopefully it would jar me out of my fugue state in time to get home before Dad woke up.

Tidying the bags away into my cupboard, I set about making dinner, which was handmade meatball marinara with spaghetti and parmesan cheese to sprinkle on top. I had tweaked the recipe a bit so the marinara sauce was more like the kind I used in Mom's recipe for lasagna. A bit of herbs added here, a bit less tomato added there…it was surprising what a little change of ingredients could do to a recipe.

Dad, when he got in, loved it. It hit his palate just as cleanly as mom's recipe had and it was a good thing I knew he liked parmesan cheese. The best part was that I could freeze the leftovers and reheat them for his lunches every so often. Win-Win in my book.

"Taylor, I have no idea how, but you are just as good at cooking as your mother was." Dad announced with a satisfied sigh after he finished, "Seriously, that was something right out of your mother's cookbook. How'd you get it so close to Annette's recipe?"

"I've kinda memorised it." I admitted freely, "Adjusting Italian dishes is easy because Mom liked cooking them a lot. If it was, say, an Indian curry, I'd have to experiment a bit to get it right."

"Well, whoever you end up marrying will be a lucky guy…or girl." Dad nodded.

Ever since Legend came out as gay (to the despair of his legion of fangirls), homophobia had hit an all-time low, in America at least. I was pretty certain that Mom had been bisexual, or had at least experimented back in college and Dad, while as straight as a die, didn't care about sexuality. So long as it was between two consenting adults, it didn't matter to him.

"That'll be a long time coming I think Dad." I said with a sigh, "After the shit that Winslow put me through, I think it'll be a while before I'm willing to trust anyone to get close to me like that again."

One particularly cruel prank that had been played on me by The Trio had been a boy asking me out, and then dumping me in front of the whole school a week later. I honestly didn't know if I was straight, gay or swung both ways, but I was too hurt emotionally to make a good decision about it. I was able to recognise _that_ much.

Dad looked at me sadly. "I'm so sorry that I was too wrapped up in my own misery to notice what you were going through, Little Owl."

"It's fine Dad." I shook my head, "Everything's getting better now. I'm out of that hellhole and work's getting better for you. Here's hoping this trend continues!"

I mock-toasted him with my glass of water and he returned the favour.

"Just so."

 _Later_

The easiest way to lull Dad to sleep is to either get him to drink alcohol or stuff him with good food. Dad wasn't a glutton or anything, but he did appreciate well cooked meals as much as the next person and they always made him sluggish, leading to him going to be early and not waking up until his alarm sounded the next morning.

It was because of this that I had sharpened my cooking skills and it was why I could be confident that he would remain asleep while I was out of the house, unless something happened near the house.

Humping the two bags of stuff to my base was slightly more tiring than I expected, but not as much as the pre-exercise me would have found it. Hell, I would have been exhausted halfway through the jog to the Boat Graveyard.

Thanks to my little swim to the _Evermore_ , I had time to think about the whole 'getting to my base without being seen and quickly' problem and decided to see what Amphitrite could dig up regarding the Bay's storm drains. I knew that the city had an extensive drainage system, a remnant from more prosperous times, to deal with the heavy rains and storms that often hit the area. Depending on the size of the drains, a modest bike or scooter could be converted to run in them, maybe?

"Greetings, Riptide." My VA said in that pleasantly soft voice of hers as I entered the cargo hold her main unit was in.

"Good evening, Amphitrite." I replied, "Have all of the items on your list been fabricated?"

"Affirmative." The cool voice said and I saw the external lights of the computer unit come on and illuminate the autofab. It was one of the devices given to me by Toybox as part of the 'basic' new Tinker package. It could rapidly assemble devices such as these mini-cameras as long as they were a Masamune-design, non-Tinkertech or a relatively simple design. The autofab itself was a creation of Masamune.

"Excellent." I nodded, "And the router and modem?"

"Manufactured, but still requires installation in order to be brought online."

It was relatively simple to set everything up, as the housing of Amphitrite's unit was modular, with several plates that could be removed for extensions or add-ons. Modems and routers were one of those frequent add-ons, apparently.

"OK, begin activation." I ordered when it was set up. The lights on the functional modem and router glowed to life as they were powered on.

"Activating…running security firewalls…" Amphitrite stated, "Scanning frequencies….connecting to the internet. Connecting…done. Encrypting link…done. Testing connection and encryption…done. I am now fully connected to the internet, Riptide."

"Nice." I said approvingly, "Now, can you tell me what the difference between you and an AI is?"

"I am a VA, a Virtual Assistant, sometimes referred to as a VI, or Virtual Intelligence." Amphitrite replied, "A VA such as I can be programmed to emulate human emotion, speech patterns and appear to be sentient and sapient. However, that is all I can do. I cannot grow beyond my programming or adjust it. An AI is usually able to update its base code in response to new stimuli or data and can grow beyond what its creator intends for it to be. Theoretically, it is possible to turn me into an AI by the installation of numerous modules, extra processes and other programs and files, but the end result, if successful, would not be me. 'I' would not be that AI. 'Amphitrite' the VA would be subsumed into the AI that was born from her. In any case, no instance of VA-to-AI upgrading has ever been recorded as successful."

I blinked. That was a very thorough explanation. "Is this in the Frequently Asked Questions section of your briefing or something?"

"Yes."

That would explain it. A lot of people would be interested in 'upgrading' their VA into an AI. Putting a standard warning into the explanation would make sense, as the likelihood of any updates succeeding seemed to be somewhere between slim and none.

"OK then." I said, "Search online and download the blueprints for the _Evermore_ 's ship class. Display it on your screen and pinpoint areas to cover with these cameras so no one can enter without being seen by them."

"Compliance." The screen on the side of the computer's hull flashed into life and a schematic flashed into existence. "Query: Was the _Evermore_ sunk via holing of its hull?"

"Yes, one large hole at the waterline of the prow, as well as all of the bilge pumps being left open." I answered, nodding in approval. She may be a VA, but whoever had programmed Amphitrite had made her very thorough in her duties, as well as able to anticipate possible problems in those duties.

"Recommendation: Repair hull breach."

"Not until we have some kind of hard-light projection system that can make it look as if the hole's still there." I said, the designs for one popping into my mind as I spoke, "It'll take a while before the _Evermore_ is anywhere close to being as secure as I'd like it to be, so our first and best defence is secrecy and concealment. We're right on the outer edge of the Boat Graveyard, a place no one pays any attention to or goes near, so that's pretty good as concealment in the first place, but we have to be careful. This place is listed as being one of the patrol areas for New Wave and I do _not_ want them to know about this place, because the _first_ thing they'll do is tell the Protectorate that a new Tinker's set up a workshop in the Boat Graveyard. If that happens, it's only a matter of time before the gangs find out about me. No, we're going to set up these cameras, then build hard-light hologram generators so everyone sees what we want them to see. Then we'll start making this old tub a fortress."

"Processing...plan of action logical." Amphitrite said after a moment, "Marking locations on map for optimal camera coverage."

I smiled. It was time to get this show on the road!

 _Later_

I came to lying on the floor, with a persistent metallic ringing in my ears. Looking around blearily, I saw the source of the noise; the alarm clock I had brought with me. Damn, I wish it would shut up…

Wait.

"Crap!" I shouted as I stumbled to my feet. It was four in the morning?! Why the hell was I still here?!

Then I looked around at the hold and gaped. It had changed greatly.

Instead of the rust-dimpled, peeling paint-covered steel, the walls were a shining silver material that I vaguely recognised as something designed to coat metal in a similar way to stainless steel, although instead of slowing down rust, it devoured and replaced rust. Pretty soon, the entire ship would have its bulkheads, keel and every other metallic surface replaced by it. I had invented it just last night.

My eyes swept the room, coming to rest of Amphitrite's central unit, which now had an odd device on top of it. It looked like a blue globe suspended in the center of a ring that was held aloft by four equidistant struts around its circumference. Inside the globe was a blue liquid that I somehow knew drew in warmth from the surrounding air via convection in order to power the globe…which was a holographic display unit.

The globe hummed as it powered on and a beam of white light erupted from it, making me flinch away and blink furiously to cleat the spots from my eyes. When they cleared, I gaped again, this time at the figure shown by the projector.

It was a female figure, olive-skinned and definitely Grecian in origin. She was tall and thin, standing half a foot taller than I was and wore a pure white toga, with sea-green and gold trimming at the edges. Her feet wore gladiator-style sandals and she carried a slim silver trident in one hand. Her hair was a slightly lighter brown than my own and she wore it in a tight bun, with a golden diadem surmounting her head. Her eyes were a deep blue that was in no way natural and she had aristocratic features that were slightly intimidating.

"Mistress Riptide." She bowed her head slightly as she spoke, "I thank you for furnishing me with this projector. I did my best to construct a suitable avatar based on my namesake, but there is precious little even on the internet regarding what she looked like or wore historically, so I took more than a few liberties. Does my form please you?"

"Y-yes…you look…wow." I managed to get out before I got more neurons firing. Guess I was at least appreciative of how girls looked if my scatterbrained response to her appearance was any barometer.

"What projects did I finish?" I asked, trying to get my head screwed on straight.

"The anti-rust metallic spray, this hard light hologram projector and several smaller emitters that can be installed at hey points around the _Evermore_ to ensure that the correct appearance is displayed to onlookers and casual observers." My VA listed, "You also scanned in the contents of all of your notebooks and sketchbooks into my memory banks. You made plans to create a hard light holographic interface, but you needed to build something to do with water next, so you built a wrist-mounted water cannon instead."

Puzzled, I looked at the table nearby and saw what she was talking about. It was a blue glove-like device that was long enough to fit on my arm up to just past the elbow. At the wrist, there was a bulky white collar or shackle-like protrusion that was at least six inches long and an inch and a half deep. Looking at it, I knew that most of that space was full of compressed water canisters that could each hold several liters of liquid. The nozzle sticking out of the center of the device atop the wrist could have its aperture changed to any size from fully open to as thin as a needle with a twist of the switch on the reverse side.

"OK, wow." I muttered. There were several issues that I saw with the Aqua Blaster (temporary name) at the moment, but they could wait for now. "I need to head home before my Dad wakes up. Amphitrite, did I say how quickly the anti-rust coating would spread?"

"I believe you said it would take the better part of a month for it to spread enough to replace the entire ship's metal." The VA answered, "There should be no external signs of the replacement until you can emplace the emitters and scan the exterior for the hologram template, both for day and night. An excellent addition is that any holes in the hull should be sealed over by the coating as well, using excess mass from the rust consumed."

Well, that's one relief. "Is it made of nanomachines?"

"No, it is a highly complex chemical compound that spreads over a metal surface and specifically hunts down and consumes oxidized parts of that metal." Amphitrite stated, "From what you said, you specifically created this compound to coat steel with. It should have no effect on other metals aside from iron."

Strike two, relief times two. "OK then. Did I set up the cameras?"

"They are all set up and streaming as we speak on an encrypted channel."

Looks like I can head home without much worry. "OK then. I'm going home. Can you trawl PHO and make notes regarding the Parahumans in Brockton Bay? Their powers, costumes and affiliations? No breaking the Unwritten Rules though."

"Compliance." Amphitrite nodded, "I am unable to violate any of the Unwritten Rules, Mistress Riptide. It is hardwired into my programming."

"Good." I nodded back, "See you tonight."

The trip back to my house was tiring, more so than usual. I was actually a bit frightened at how I had completely lost track of, what? Six, six and a half hours? I had lost track of over half a day and the memories were only trickling in right now in dribs and drabs. I made a note to constantly Tinker so I didn't have Tinker Explosions again.

Something struck me as I slipped into my bedroom and huddled under the covers. Before my Tinker Explosion, Amphitrite had referred to me as just 'Riptide' without any other titles, but when I came out of it, she called me 'Mistress Riptide'. Why was that?

 _The Next Night_

 _En Route to the Evermore_

The day seemed to have gone by quickly, what with studying, jogging, cooking and other housework to get through. I was actually walking on air because of the amount of tinkering I had managed to accomplish yesterday. I had no idea where the idea for that anti-rust spray stuff had come from, but it would spread to cover the entire ship and make the steel as strong as it had been when it had first been made.

That obviously wouldn't be enough, however. 'Good enough' was not up to scratch. 'Standard issue' was insufficient. By the time I was done with my base, the _Evermore_ would be able to tank a tidal wave without so much as getting a scratch.

I paused at the corner of one building. Why did a water comparison come to mind so quickly there? Was I expecting…no, was _my power_ expecting me to face Leviathan at some point? Because he was the only hydrokinetic on the planet, me aside, that could create tidal waves.

My mind was drawn from its thoughts by a scream. It was from a female and was from the alley ahead of me. Sneaking up to it, I peered around the corner and cursed under my breath. Two Empire skinheads, identifiable by their armbands, had a woman pinned to the wall of the alley and were leering at her suggestively. She wasn't black or Asian; rather, she was the typical blond-haired, blue-eyed person that these Aryan Supremacist assholes were supposed to respect. Why were they attacking her?

Gah! That didn't matter! What the hell should I do here?! I had no equipment, not with me at least. And I wasn't even wearing a costume! I did have some Mace and a collapsible baton that Dad had bought for me. The Mace was brand new, but the baton was a hand-me-down from someone at the Dockworker's Union. It wasn't enough though, so I looked for other options.

I did have a bottle of water with me, and there was some water on the ground from the light rainfall earlier on. Maybe I didn't even have to show myself to save the woman…

A smile crossed my face as I pulled down my balaclava to cover my face just in case. It was time to teach some thugs some manners.


	8. Drop 1-7

**Author's Note: Ok, so. Last chapter in the Drop Arc. I meant to make last chapter the last chapter of it, but I decided to split it in two. Ah well.**

 **To answer those who are dismayed due to Taylor's seemingly stupidity act here. Despite the fact that she is a very paranoid and cautious individual, she is still a Parahuman, thus pushed into conflict by her Shard wherever possible. In the past, yes, she has heard criminal acts taking place en-route to the Evermore. However, that will have been from a distance. In this occasion it is happening right in front of her eyes. Months of holding back her Shard (unknowingly) combined with her own moral compass means that she cannot avoid taking action now. She can avoid that which she cannot see, but she cannot walk away from suffering before her eyes.**

 **Beta'd by BigCC.**

"Damn you Sophia!" – Speech

' _Why_ _Emma?_ ' – Thought

 **Drop 1.7**

 **+++Helen Pierce+++**

' _If_ _I get out of this mess, I am never taking shortcuts again!_ ' was all Helen could think as she was menaced by the two thugs from the Empire 88. She was the 'Aryan ideal' in appearance that the Nazi gang professed to prefer. Her husband was also blond-haired and blue-eyed, although that was pure coincidence on her part. She had heard horror stories from her grandfather, who had in turn heard them from her great-grandfather, about what the Third Reich had done in the Concentration Camps. He had helped liberate one back when he was a soldier.

The memories of what he'd seen in those terrible places had given him nightmares almost nightly for over thirty years until he had passed away. Growing up with those stories, she had never liked the Nazis and had treated the Empire's propaganda for the vainglorious sack of lies and pap that they were.

Unfortunately, that had set some of her colleagues at the law firm she worked for on edge against her, as they actually believed the rubbish about Aryan Supremacy. Small-minded idiots, in her opinion. She wasn't all that high-up on the food chain, only being an administrative assistant, which basically amounted to being a gopher. This meant that those who were actually lawyers who believed the Empire's tripe could bully her almost without consequence.

Even today, she had been sent to do grunt work, even although she was up for a promotion soon. She had lost her temper with one man, a sleazy excuse of a worm who was a barrister when he had groped her rear and slapped him across the face. He was responsible for this situation.

"Mr. Bunch didn't like what ya did to him, girlie!" was what one of them said a scant two minutes ago. She had fled at that point and had, unfortunately, used her old shortcut down this alley to try and flee. Sadly, her panicked action had just led her right into the fangs of danger, as the second had been waiting for her there.

And now she was going to be beaten up. Or raped. Or even beaten up _and_ raped.

She had screamed a moment ago when they pushed her against the wall, but she knew it was pointless. Brockton Bay wasn't a place where Good Samaritans turned up at the drop of a hat, especially since this was the edge of Empire territory. None of the Protectorate ever came out this way except for Velocity and even then that was only once in a blue moon. New Wave had only Glory Girl active these days and she spent a lot of her time patrolling the area around her family home.

No, she was doomed.

"Shame she's a race traitor." One of the thugs leered at her lewdly, "She's a sweet piece of ass."

"Yeah. Shame." His friend agreed, "Now then…let's have some fun, eh? Hehehehehe…"

Helen's eyes narrowed and she instinctively shielded her bust from the lecherous gaze of the two skinheads.

Abruptly, one of the thugs flinched and looked down at his feet. "Urgh! What the fuck?"

"What?" the other asked irritably.

"Just felt somethin' cold on my ankle."

"Gettin' cold feet at this stage?"

"No, I mean literally, ya smartass." The first thug insisted. The other man looked disbelieving until he shivered and looked down at his own feet.

"What the fuck? Now I'm feeling it!"

Both of the men stiffened at once when the cold feeling suddenly shot up their legs. Panicking, they started whacking at their legs fruitlessly as the cold sensation sped up off their legs and onto their backs.

Unable to believe her luck, Helen used the one surefire technique to take down a man; she rammed her knee right in between the legs of the skinhead on her right, who let out a high-pitched squeal like a stuck pig before collapsing to the ground, cupping his abused manhood.

"-ing! Bitch!" the other one shouted and made to grab her, but stopped partway and started clawing at his throat. Helen could see a shimmering band tightening around it that hadn't been there just a moment ago.

Unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth, the woman turned tail and fled up the alley, heading for her home. She didn't know what was going on, but to her mind, all things pointed to the very subtle intervention of a Cape. Most, in her experience, were fond of showboating and dramatic entrances, but this one…wasn't.

' _Whatever._ ' She thought as she thanked her foresight in not wearing heels today as she ran, ' _Whoever_ _this Cape is, they just saved my bacon. That earns them a lot of points in my book, whoever they are._ '

 **+++Taylor Hebert+++**

I breathed a sigh of relief as the woman fled the scene. This Cape business could be nerve-wracking when you didn't want to actually be seen doing it.

Gathering the small amounts of standing water that had pooled throughout the alley to distract the skinheads had worked a lot better than I hoped. I was lucky that it had rained yesterday, so there was plenty to work with. Sending the streams crawling up the thugs' pants legs had worked like a charm, she couldn't think of anyone who wouldn't react to something cold and wet climbing up their leg.

Even she'd been forced to wince when the cornered woman had struck back, though she quickly got over it since the target was a Nazi.

Enough said.

When the other one had tried to attack her again, discarding or momentarily forgetting my distraction, I'll be honest and admit that I panicked. It had been pure instinct that sent the stream of water that had been snaking around his legs and abdomen rocketing up his torso before constricting around his neck like a noose.

I was just glad I was able to reign my powers in enough to keep the noose from breaking his neck. I kept it just tight enough that he wouldn't be in any danger of suffocating but he also wouldn't be in any shape to pursue his target.

' _Wish_ _I could see these guys arrested, but I can't exactly call in the cops at this point so I'll just have to let this one go._ ' I thought in annoyance as I walked away quickly from the alley. ' _Unhooking_ _in three, two, one…now._ '

I drew the water away from his neck at that, followed by a small thump as the Nazi fell on his ass, probably gulping for air. How convenient. I concentrated the water I used there before releasing my control of it. If the skinhead noticed that his pants were wet, he'd dismiss it because he had fallen on his ass.

Go me!

A part of me wanted to release it on the opposite end, give the Nazi-wannabe a bit of humiliation by making it look like he wet himself, but I again forced myself to abstain. Subtlety was my friend for the time being, and humiliating Nazis, while something every red-blooded American should enjoy, was not worth risking it.

Picking up the pace a bit, I headed straight for the Boat Graveyard. I did not want to risk coming across something else like that again, at least not until I had built a costume and auxiliary weapons set for when I was going to and fro between the Nevermore and my house. The Aqua Blaster (still need a better name for it than that) was a good start…except I hadn't made the hyper-compressed water canisters that would serve as its ammo yet.

Ah well, something to work on tonight.

Arriving at the Nevermore, I saw that the interior was being changed very rapidly by my little formula, although the spread looked to be well within parameters. I would still hurry up with the hard-light hologram projectors though. No sense in being careless.

"Greetings, Mistress Riptide." Amphitrite greeted me as I entered the main hold. She was projecting her hologram over her unit and looking impassive.

"Evening, Amphitrite." I said, "How long until Dodge shows up?"

"If he is keeping to the same time as when he delivered me, he should be here in two and a half hours." The VI replied.

"Good. Plenty of time for tinkering then." I grinned, rubbing my hands together eagerly, "Now then…first off, the canisters for this arm blaster…"

In short order, I had the sixteen small canisters built, but I had a problem…they were all about the size of a small candy bar, but each could hold enough water to fill up a small tanker truck.

As long as they were loaded with a machine I hadn't built yet.

"This is going to be a pain in the ass." I grumbled as I grabbed my tools. Cutting metal and tightening screws was one of the least enjoyable parts of being a Tinker, but I had plans for an auto-assembler that would make it a bit easier. That would cut and shape the metal and put the non-vital parts of the Tinkertech that I built together, but all the vital parts would have to be hand-built by me and I would have to put the finishing touches on them myself too.

I knew that Tinkertech couldn't be mass produced, aside from tech designed by Masamune. Hell, most Tinkers had a hard time deciphering the work of other Tinkers, aside from Dragon, who many believed was a Tinker with a specialty for other forms of Tinkertech. Those two were the crème-de-la-crème of the Tinker world, with Armsmaster along with a few others competing for the third spot in the Holy Trifecta of Tinkerdom.

At least according to PHO.

I was screwing the last bolt on the machine when Amphitrite informed me I had five minutes before Dodge should turn up. I hurriedly cleaned up and decided that I was so going to invest in a fabricator for my costume, as I was absolute pants at sewing, one of the few domestic skills I had always sucked at.

Mom had tried to teach me, but I always tended to end up with bleeding hands afterwards. After a few months and several dozen rolls of bandages, we both decided that sewing just wasn't in my wheelhouse.

Pulling down my balaclava, I quickly headed up to the bridge, arriving seconds before Dodge teleported in with a muted blue flash.

"Not late am I?" he asked cheerfully.

"No, just on time in fact." I answered with a friendly nod, "Follow me."

"Gotten over your Tinker Explosion yet?" the Rogue Tinker asked as he followed me.

"Mostly. It lasted over six hours." I shook my head in disbelief, "Is that the normal timeframe?"

"It's rather short actually." Dodge said in surprise, "Usually it lasts about a day."

"I drew sketches and blueprints of various machines I wanted to make while I couldn't Tinker." I mused, "Could that that have helped mitigate it?"

"Can't see how." The Toybox Tinker answered, really perplexed by this, apparently, "I've had times when I've wasn't able to tinker for one reason or another and I've drawn blueprints as well. Didn't do a thing when I Exploded the next time I entered the workshop. Might have something to do with the fact that you've got other powers to work with, but I've never dealt with Tinkers with secondary powers before so I can't be sure."

Huh. Well, shorter duration Explosions were an upturn in my book.

When we entered the main hold, Dodge's jaw dropped slightly. "Holy…what the heck did you do to the place?"

"It's a kind of self-replicating paste that eats rusted steel and replaces it with a new hyper-purified alloy that's stronger than titanium." I answered, "Don't worry, it's not made using nanomachines so no grey goo scenario to worry about there. I made it so it would only go after one particular type of metal, determined by dropping a small sliver of the metal you need to affect inside the mixture just before the end of the final refining process."

"Cool. A regular person would be asking 'how does it deal with door and bolts?' and the like, but I'm just going to acknowledge satisfying Tinker bullshit." Dodge nodded wisely, "How long before it covers the whole ship?"

"Replaces." I corrected him as I noticed that Amphitrite had powered down her hologram, "Coating is just the first stage, once a section is covered it goes to work and replaces the existing metal with the new alloy. Haven't come up with a name yet and 'Replacium' sounds stupid. Anyway, did you manage to get the Kevlar?"

"Yup. Well, most of it." The green and yellow costumed Cape admitted apologetically, "I have nine-tenths of it ready, with the rest due to arrive next week. As an apology for this repeated delay, I am authorised to tell you that the next time you deal with us, you get ten percent off when you buy something from us."

I blinked. That was astonishingly generous, and I said so.

"We pride ourselves on getting our customers what they want, when they want it." Dodge shrugged, "Fact is, none of us are combat Tinkers, so we really don't have much in the way of weaponry or armour around. Oh, Pyrotechnical makes the odd batch of laser rifles and Big Rig works on the occasional suit of power armour, but most of us have strictly non-combat specializations, so most of the materials needed for basic body armour or weapons need some time to be acquired. Still, it's something we should have in stock for when other people want to buy from us. The discount is an apology for the delay happening twice."

Fair enough. _I_ thought it was fair, anyway. Never look a gift horse in the mouth.

After teleporting in another large container that was almost full of Kevlar, Dodge turned to face me.

"Now that you've somehow gotten over your Tinker Explosion, there are two more things about being a Tinker that you should know about." He said gravely, "One's bad and one's beneficial. Which do you wanna hear first?"

I sighed. Great, more stuff that might be a pain in the ass about being a Tinker. "Let's go ahead and rip the band aid off. Tell me the bad first."

"It's a condition called 'Tinker Fugue' that is bad, or at least potentially disastrous to your projects." He explained, "It happens when you focus on one project or device to the exclusion of all else. You wander about in a trance-like state as your mind tries to piece together how to make it. Eventually it gets to the point that when you start working on it, you sometimes pull apart your other pieces of Tinkertech in order to grab the pieces to make the one bugging you. It can be…traumatic…to wake up from your Fugue to find half of your stuff in pieces."

Yikes! That did sound really bad.

"Is there any way to mitigate or avoid it?" I asked worriedly.

"Nope. It happens to every Tinker at least once. Happened to me twice." Dodge groaned, "My first teleporter…damn."

Wow…he pulled apart his first teleporter in a state of Tinker Fugue…man, that condition sounds like it could be a major pain! And possibly something that might have revealed my powers to someone if I was still going to school. I really owed my Dad a good meal for pulling me out…

"The other thing I need to explain is actually a useful little trick we Tinkers can pull off when we get together." The Toybox Tinker continued, "As you may or may not know, no two Tinkers' work is the same, even if they have a similar specialty. It's to the point that only Dragon or Masamune can successfully decipher and mass-produce some of the work of other Tinkers. There is one exception, however; the phenomenon known as Tinker Synergy, or, as it is more commonly referred to, Tinker Team-Up or Collaboration."

This sounds interesting.

"As I said, a finished piece of Tinkertech, or even a half-finished piece, is hard to break down." Dodge stated, "The exception is if two Tinkers work together on the same device from the ground up, combining their specialties into the same device. This is the sole manner in which Tinkers can gain an insight into another's work without stripping down and examining one over an extended period of time, unless you're a Tinker of the same level as Dragon or Masamune, of course."

"Never heard of it on PHO." I said with a frown.

"Tinkers don't like to advertise it outside of the Parahuman community because, once they start working on a joint project, the level of cooperation Tinkers starts showing is near-instinctive." He explained, "To the uninitiated, it almost looked like we're reading each other's minds, which has been all but taboo since Ziz showed up."

I shuddered. Yes, the Simurgh was a good enough reason to be suspicious of telepaths and mind readers.

"That right there's the reaction that makes most Tinkers wary of letting that little bit of information get out too far." Dodge noted with a nod at me, "It isn't, really. If anything it's closer to hyper-intuition based on the interaction of our Tinker powers."

I nodded in acknowledgement, but it wasn't as if I was going to work with another Tinker in the near future. I was going to stay clear of Armsmaster and Kid Win, thanks to my knowledge of Shadow Stalker's real identity, and there was no way that I was going near Squealer or L33t. Unless another Tinker Triggered in Brockton and I could help them get on their feet before the Empire or ABB could get their hands on them. Even if that happened, there was no guarantee that my specialty and theirs would match up well.

As I ruminated on his words, Dodge was looking about and spotted the water condenser I'd built to fill my hyper-space water canisters. It looked like a large water cooler mounted atop four sets of trays, each with spaces on them for four of my canisters.

"What's this?" he asked curiously.

I debated with myself about whether or not to show him it, and then shrugged. ' _Why_ _not? He's a Tinker, I'm a Tinker and it would be nice to have some feedback on my devices._ '

"Watch." I told him and fetched the canisters, slotting them into the trays before turning the machine on. With a loud chugging noise, it activated and started drawing water from the hold that I had carried a long pipe to, slowly filling up the water holder on top. The water was brackish and brown from all of the rust and impurities in it. I punched in some commands on the side of the console and a mist-like wave was released inside of the tank. When it faded, the water was perfectly clear.

Another chugging sound started up as sixteen transparent thin pipes descended into the open heads of the canisters and water was sent down and inside them.

"So a fancy way of loading water?" Dodge raised an eyebrow at the seemingly mundane use of my powers.

"How much water should those canisters hold?" I asked him, nodding towards the machine.

"Looks to be less than a can of Coke." The man judged after a moment, "About 300ml?"

"Each of them holds 6900 US Gallons." I answered simply, "About the same as an ISO Tank Container."

I may have made them, but I had only the barest idea of how that was possible. I think the word 'quantum' came into it somewhere.

The only reaction to my words was a twitch of his eyebrow. "That's _definitely_ more along the 'Tinker Bullshit' line. Why that particular number?"

I shrugged. "I heard it a lot from a friend who works in the shipping business."

This wasn't a lie. Although the docks were all but out of order, barring the small docks on the other side of the Bay, the rail industry is still flourishing (to a degree). Deliveries are rarely made between cities via vans and lorries these days unless it can't be helped, thanks to Parahuman menaces like the Slaughterhouse Nine wandering all over the place. On rare occasions, Dad sometimes manages to get the Union hired to unload deliveries from railcars and the like, although the pay sucked.

"Fair enough." Dodge looked as the machine continued its work, "What's that mist stuff?"

"An energy wave that eliminates 99.99% of foreign materials from water, including the salt." I answered, "A forensics lab could tell where the water came from with a few tests, and I'm betting a Tinker like Armsmaster could do even more. This way, the water I'm using will be nearly untraceable. It also severely cuts down on the water's conductivity, making it less of an electrical hazard."

I'd done some research after I'd figured out my powers. Turns out water itself wasn't conductive to electricity but rather the trace impurities that existed in nearly any form of water.

"Smart." He complimented me with a sage nod.

After ten minutes of work, the machine shut down and withdrew the pipes from the canisters. I then grabbed the lids, which had a small length of pipe a couple of centimeters long poking out of them, and screwed them tightly into place.

"This is what they're for." I said and led him over to the table where the Aqua Blaster was lying. After pulling it on and pressing three hidden switches in a specific order, the hidden compartments for them popped open. I took each canister and pressed them into place, much as you would for putting batteries into a portable CD-Player. Once they were all loaded, I closed the compartments up and removed the Aqua Blaster from my wrist.

"OK, I am willing to say that you are using your specialty very well." Dodge said with a nod, "So this arm gun of yours is pretty powerful?"

"If I want it to, it can shoot a ball of water as fast as a rubber bullet." I said with a shrug, "I can also alter the aperture of the muzzle as I want, from as thin as a needle to full bore. The firing mode is selectable too, from single shot to three-round burst, to full-auto, to a condensed stream of water. I'll be making another one for my other arm as well, and then get to making the costume."

"Wait, you control this thing by manual?" Dodge spotted the switches on the side of the Aqua Blaster.

"It's voice activated, actually." I shot back; miffed at the very thought he'd think I would leave something so pedestrian in my designs. That was just asking for someone to steal my tech and misuse it. I pointed at the switches. "This is a backup system that is electronically disabled until either the voice recognition system goes offline and a security code is entered or a command code is given."

"So you'll speak thing aloud to change your weapons settings?" he pressed.

"Nope. Well, kinda." I admitted, "Part of my costume's gonna have a rebreather so I don't have to worry about gas attacks, so putting in a com-link connected directly to receivers in my so I can control them sub-vocally isn't a bad idea."

"It'll also let you breath underwater." Dodge agreed, "Looks like you have things well under control here. Someone'll be in contact via that phone I gave you at the usual time when the rest of your order comes in."

Nodding, I escorted Dodge up to the bridge again so he could teleport out. Once he did, I returned to the main hold…no, to my workshop, and cracked my knuckles before getting stuck in. The costume and everything weren't just going to make themselves, after all.

 **+++Waterworks+++**

The next two nights were full of work, while the days were full of me cooking, cleaning, doing my schoolwork and exercising. I did make a detour one night to grab some of the stuff from the warehouse that Dad had talked about a while back. There were some good circuit boards there that might be useful at some point.

The replacement chemicals arrived at my house (finally) and I was able to continue my chemistry work. More formulae for various water-related applications were noted down as they occurred to me.

It was odd, schoolwork sometimes offered the odd bits of inspiration. Chemistry invoked chemical formulas, biology supplied ideas for devices that affected the water within living organisms (most of those ideas quickly went into the NOPE bin, but the idea for a harmonic weapon that aggravated the water in the brain to cause dizziness, nausea, and unconsciousness had some potential), and math offered more space-bending fuckery.

Art and history provided a number of different ideas based on the subject of the day.

I wonder if it did the same to all Tinkers, and, if it did, how Kid Win and other teenage Tinkers dealt with it.

The Aqua Blaster had a brother soon enough, although this one was built as primarily as an aid for close-combat, with ranged attacks acting as a secondary function. The inverse of its brother.

It had a deployable rod above the knuckles that would release water from several dozen pin-sized holes along its length that I could then use my powers to shape into a blade around it. This would be used only as a last resort, however; as a blade made of water could be something close to a monomolecular blade. The sheet of steel I used as a test target was cut in half like a hot knife through butter.

A secondary set of rods could be extended from the back of the forearm, each extending about a foot, which I could use as a base to form a shield, though using my powers I could extend it far beyond the reach of the rods.

The main release portions would be a set of adjustable nozzles locked, one located above each knuckle and another set of six going around the out edge of the wrist, each capable of deploying water at various amount that I could then manipulate into multiple forms ranging from a hammer, to a whip, to claws.

Now I stood in front of the mannequin that had the final prototype design for my costume resting on it.

I couldn't help but marvel at it.

Coloured dark blue with the symbol of a wave, the fabric (Kevlar) part of the suit matched my measurements perfectly and covered every inch of my body, with some elasticity built in to allow for potential growth (I still had hopes that I would actually have breasts in the future). I'd run the Kevlar through a new refinement process and infused with several specially designed dyes that gave it its colour, as well as making it fireproof and shock-resistant, as well as even more effective against resisting bullets and knives than before and improving its elasticity.

The armoured parts were like the Aqua Blaster and its twin, although when I coated them in the same dye I'd used on the Kevlar, they had turned white. Bizarre, but only a footnote. There were three additional pieces of armour other than the Aqua Blasters; one for my chest and back and a pair for my legs up to the knees.

The armoured boots (because that's what they were) and greaves were not only to protect my lower legs and feet, but to be used as a conduit for my powers. Just like the Aqua Blaster, each of the boots had eight canisters of water stored in them (two along the sides of the foot and the remaining six going up my lower legs) that I could control via my mask's sub-vocal com systems. I could blast off like a rocket with them, release it around me to create a 'field' of water I could use my more wide-scale hydrokinetic tricks with, or even 'kick' water shots at people.

The chest body armour protected my upper body and included shoulder armour. I had made a test set earlier to see exactly how well it would protect me from blunt-force trauma, sword cuts and all manner of other things and I was pleased to see that it was highly resistant to all of the above. The main utility of the armour, aside from the defensive aspect, was that it could be closed up like a suitcase and so hold my costume when I wasn't wearing it. It also had six canister slots along the back, which I could use to create additional hydrokinetic armor or force fields and use in combination with my boots to create a coating to allow me use hydrokinetic flight

The pièce de résistance was my mask. It was mix of fabric and armour, with the entirety of my face being covered by it. The top portion consisted of an armored helmet covering the top of and back of my head, while the upper portion of my face was protected by a fabric cover that ended up looking almost like a domino mask, the eyeholes were covered in plastic that was coated in a transparent orange film that was water-repellant.

Not the regular type of repellant as in 'it will run off the lenses' but as in 'water will not even _touch_ the lenses'. I was a bit unsure about how it worked, but I was satisfied enough that it did.

The lower portion was armoured in the same fashion as the rest of my costume, but it was what lay beneath the armour that was important. Within the mask was a rebreather system, something that allowed me to breath without exposing myself to the air and risking toxins being introduced via gas attacks. Well, it also had six vents, three on each side, which could be opened and closed at my command. The air was kept in a small capsule about the length of a child's thumb that held enough air in it to last me about a day and the air I exhaled was expelled into another similarly sized capsule.

Those capsules had taken me most of the previous day to put together, despite the fact that they were greatly similar to my compressed water canisters. Such was the difference between a liquid storage system and a gas storage system, I suppose.

Anyway, the com system was tightly encrypted and linked only to the pieces of my armour that I needed to control and to Amphitrite. With the voice command system, I could manipulate the various functions of my armour with a series of commands, such as 'R34AD.' That meant 'Right arm, aperture width 3, pressure level 4, bullet form, deploy'.

There were over twenty different commands for each piece of armour, so it would take me a while to memorize them, but it was a very simple system. The aperture sizes varied between 1 (Pinprick) and 5 (Fully Open), while the pressure level varied between1 (weak) and 5 (real bullet strength). There were only two different types of forms the water could take as a weapon, either bullet form or stream form, coded as 'a' and 'b' respectively.

With this, I could adjust my firepower on the fly to suit the type of enemy I was facing. With this, I could go on patrol. With _this_ , I could finally start my career as a hero.

I smirked. "Look out, Brockton Bay. Riptide is here to change you for the better!"


	9. Ripple 2-1

**Beta'd by BigCC.**

"Damn you Sophia!" – Speech

' _Why_ _Emma?_ ' – Thought

 **Ripple 2.1**

 **+++Taylor+++**

Of course, life was never going to be as simple as going out and kicking bad guy booty.

Something that both Dodge and Amphitrite had emphasized time and time again was that a Tinker's Workshop was their _final_ line of defense when the world started to go pear-shaped. When everywhere else was unsafe, when the world itself seemed to be your enemy, when your life just seemed to be falling down around your ears; your workshop _had_ to be the one place you could count on to be a bastion of safety and security.

For my lab, my first line of defence was secrecy and obscurity. No one knew I even existed as a cape, let alone the location/existence of my workshop-slash-base on the _Evermore_ …well aside from the Toybox and there was little I could do about that…yet.

The longer that held true the better, but as soon as I started working as a Cape, people would know that I existed, and most anyone who knew about Tinkers would guess that I had a lab. When that happened, people (ranging from gang 'recruiters' to Protectorate recruiters, to nosey Cape Enthusiasts) would start looking and I needed to be ready for that

So, I wearily got up and set about tinkering with the hard-light hologram projectors.

Why hard-light rather than soft-light? Several reasons. While soft-light was far easier and less technologically intensive to create, it was also next to useless for anything outside maintaining a simple optical illusion. There were dozens of ways of detecting it, and bypassing it was as simple as walking through it. Hard-light, on the other hand, was basically creating a mixture of a soft-light hologram and a forcefield, giving the projections actual physical structure and solidity. Hell, if done correctly, hard-light could even be used to simulate texture, adding another layer to the illusion. So, not only did hard-light offer a better disguise, but added a secondary layer of defense on top of my Replacium (I _seriously_ needed to come up with a better name for it), which was still slowly spreading its way through the ships' hull and bulkheads.

Personally, I couldn't think of any real use for soft-light where hard-light wouldn't be the superior choice, outside maybe advertising where appearances were all you needed.

Anyway, while I was building the projectors, I had Amphitrite start manufacturing a small number of remote drones from her blueprint storage. Visibly, they looked like any commercial remote-controlled drones, vaguely box-shaped with four rotors at each point. But while some commercial drones had basic, low-tech camera functions, the ones my personal VI assistant was creating had cameras that were not only high-quality, but could switch between night-vision, infrared, and ultraviolet lenses.

While on their own they'd be an excellent addition to the _Evermore's_ external security at night, having them circling my base during the day would be a Bad Idea. However, a quick perusal of my notes produced an idea I'd had a few days ago, a water-based optical camouflage system. It basically released a low-level electrostatic pulse that stimulated the water in the air and used it to bend the light around anything within a small radius of the device, rendering them completely invisible to most normal methods of sight.

Creating a sound dampener as well had been a bit trickier, since sound traveled through and across water far better than it did through air, but I was able to put together a crude prototype design before I forced myself to head home for the night, since it was nearly five in the morning. I could finish the designs tomorrow and hopefully give the drones a test-flight after I finished work with the hard-light projectors.

I left Amphitrite with instructions to continue the production processes and maintain a constant surveillance using the cameras I'd already installed. I also had her start working on building a patrol route to program into my drones as well that would cover most of the Graveyard. That way, even if someone did manage to find one, they wouldn't know exactly where my base was, just the general area.

I managed to make it home in time to grab a quick power nap before I had to get up and put Dad's lunch together and see him off. It would get me through the morning until after dad left for work and I could grab a few more hours before doing my school work

"Thanks Taylor." He smiled at me as he finished getting read and I handed him the lunch pail. "What's in the box today?"

"Mom's recipe lasagna." I answered him with a laugh. "Tomorrow, do you want something with chicken and beef?"

"Sounds good." Dad nodded. "I'd better be going. Kurt was wanting to get things going bright and early."

"Tell him to not overdo it." I said with a roll of my eyes. "Lacey'll kick his ass if he gets a trapped nerve in his back or something."

He winced at that. That was one of the more _painful_ things that could happen to someone's back. It had happened to almost every member of the Dockworker's Association who worked manual labor when they'd overdone it and tried to lift something way too heavy or unwieldy on their own. You'd think they'd learn their lesson from seeing it happen, but nine times out of ten, nope.

Some lessons just had to be learned the hard way

When Dad left, I went back to bed until nine. Four hours of sleep wasn't much, but apparently it was enough to allow me to function normally for the time being. Hopefully I'd have more time to sleep once all my preparations were done and I had the _Evermore_ as secure as I could make it. I had breakfast, jogged around the block, finished up my schoolwork for the day and graded myself before having lunch. That was at the back-end of one. Once lunch was eaten and the dishes washed and put away, I sat down to consider two new projects.

The first would be the vehicle I would use to get from wherever I would stash it to my base using the storm drains and sewer system. That one was easy, as I was already thinking of a motorbike design of some sort, maybe an enclosed cockpit added…

Ahem, anyway, the second project was something that had occurred to me as I worked on my suit the previous night; until I had my proper armour built, which would take a lot of time, I had no way to use hydrokinetic flight without giving away the fact that I was a true hydrokinetic. I was keeping that card firmly in reserve. Better to make the villains think I was helpless without my tech, and then give them a nasty surprise if the worst came to the worst. Not to many the many issues being associated with Leviathan (the Hydrokinetic Endbringer of DOOM!) would cause me.

Yes, I am aware that I'm being paranoid. Sue me

That was rather easily taken care of as my pencil danced across paper. I was could already see it in my brain, it looked like a metallic backpack that could attach to my current armour designs (which I was really going to have to name) or be worn independently. It featured a set of rods similar to the ones my Aqua Striker Gauntlets (Fuck, I _suck_ at naming things) that could deployed to act as a pair of wings and antennae, spreading a field that created hydrokinetic 'wings' from them. Add a small water-fueled jetpack for additional propulsion and I was good.

Frowning, I altered the jetpack's size up a bit as, while large enough for thrust while in the air, it was too small to achieve liftoff from the ground. I also added in a small, tinker-tech dehumidifier into it so it would draw water into it to help power the jet. The jetpack would also have a couple of my Flasks of Storage (damn, my naming sense sucked ass!) plugged into it to provide a more than adequate fuel source, but it never hurt to have a back-up.

A lot of people who hadn't done their research would have thought about perhaps trying to revolutionize the world by this point, with water-powered cars and easy ways to clear water of impurities on a large scale. Aside from the issues with mass-production which would make said dreams nearly impossible, there were two names that stopped any thoughts in that direction before they were half-conceived.

Mannequin.

The Simurgh.

Alan Gramme, formerly the Tinker Hero known as Sphere, had become Mannequin and joined the Slaughterhouse Nine years ago, after his family was killed in a Simurgh attack and he was subjected to its insanity-inducing song. Now, the man who had once been one part of the earlier Holy Triumvirate of Tinkers (along with Hero) was a serial killer whose favorite targets were like his former heroic identity; benevolent people who sought to improve the world, especially if they were Tinkers.

The Simurgh, the youngest and (in my opinion at least) most _terrifying_ of the Endbringers was known to target Tinkers and Thinkers herself. All of her targets, aside from Switzerland and even then there were rumors, seemed to contain at least one Tinker working on game-changing technology.

So, with those two terrifying dangers resting in my mind, I was staying the fuck _away_ from making the world a better place via my Tinkertech. I would instead improve Brockton Bay by kicking ass.

For now at least. Once I'd cemented my place and maybe built up mine and the city's defenses to the point that we could counter them, then…

But that was years away at the very least.

I eyed the two sketches of equipment and decided that the easiest to make would be the backpack. I could also make the alterations to the rest of the armour to mount it fairly easily, a night or two of work at the most after I finished my work on the drones and the hard-light projector. The problem was the bike. I already had most of the designs worked out, and knew I could build it from scratch if needed, but I also knew that if I used an existing chassis and even the engine of an already built motorcycle it would cut down the building time of the bike by at least three weeks. Not to mention the materials it would save me that I could use on other projects.

It took a bit of deliberation, but I eventually made my decision and I decided to start searching the scrapyards using my drones after I finished working on them tonight. It would be a good test run to see if their stealth systems were working.

The biggest problem was that it would be monumentally stupid to go in and buy one. That'd be practically holding up a big, neon sign saying 'TINKER' over my head for all the gangs and the PRT to see. No, if I wanted to get this done I'd have to…borrow one with absolutely no intention of returning. I'd leave money once I got some from somewhere.

A lesser evil to combat the greater evils of the bay. This sucked muchly, but I knew it would be worth it in the end. And it was better than the risks I'd be putting myself under if I did things 'legally.'

Making dinner was easy; I made beef olives, with some veggies on the side. Dad liked them, but also added that they lacked something compared to my usual fare. I resolved to experiment until I got it right. Cooking was one of the few non-parahuman skills that I could still take pride in, after all!

After Dad fell asleep, I headed out to do some more Tinkering. Seriously, the run was good for me, but it took so goddamn long to get there!

"Evening, Amphitrite." I said briskly as I entered the main hold. "Anything to report?"

"Good evening, Mistress Riptide." Amphitrite responded, her hologram appearing above her main unit. "There have been no abnormalities in any of my systems and the feeds from the various cameras have showed no abnormalities that I could detect. I have also finished writing the patrol programs for the drones you requested as well as the monitoring program to gather the needed data to build the camouflage projections for the _Evermore_. It should take approximately half our drone force a full 24 hour period of monitoring to gather sufficient data.

"Excellent." I nodded in approval. "Have one of the drones prepared for my personal use, I have some reconnaissance work that I'll need it for, but we should have the rest ready to start work by the end of the night. Now then, I suppose we should install the emitters. Where would be the optimum places for them?"

Amphitrite's image vanished from the projector and a blueprint of the _Evermore_ instantly took its place, with seven dots glowing in certain locations over the hull. One was on the prow, one was on the stern, two were on opposite sides of the middle of the main deck, one was atop the bridge, one was in the middle of the main deck in between the bridge and the prow and one was at the top of what remained of the radio tower. Seven locations for the seven emitters that I had built yesterday.

"Okay…this seems to be right, but powering them is still a bit of an issue." I mused. "I mean, the cameras run on batteries and the drones have internal batteries we can charge from your power module, but I don't think a handful of AA batteries are going to handle these bad boys."

"The construction and installation of power cables will be required to link the holo-emitters to my power module." my VI agreed. "Unfortunately, while my internal power supply would be sufficient to maintain the emitters, it would tie up a not-inconsiderable amount of my redundant power generation capability and increase the production time of all future projects considerably. Instead, I would also recommend that once the emitters are deployed and suitable cables run out to them, the construction of an alternate main power source be shuffled to the top of the building cue."

"I think I had at least three different power generator designs in my notes." I mused thoughtfully. "Which ones are the most practicable for our current resources?"

A screen flared to life and my three generator designs appeared side-by-side. One was about the same size as a Volkswagen Beetle, one was the size of a horse and the other was a monster that would fill one of the primary holds on the Evermore.

"The third design, while powerful, is outside of our current manufacturing capabilities at the moment." Amphitrite stated regretfully. If my memory served, that particular design could power a ship-sized railgun non-stop for hours. Useful, but as Amphitrite had said it was outside our current capacities for the time being.

"The second design is insufficient to requirements and is more suited as part of a backup generator system with multiple copies of it." The VI continued. "The first design is within limits, but I estimate that it will take roughly 72% of remaining supplies gained from the Toybox."

Great, I need power to keep my base hidden and protected, but I _also_ need those supplies if I wanted to build my power armour. I fought over the choice for a moment before caving in to my sensible side.

"OK, start manufacturing the cables for the emitters." I sighed. "I'll go play engineer and install them where you indicated. Then we can make a slight modification to my armour…I _really_ need to name the damn thing…and then we'll start throwing together this damned power generator. Once that's done, however…I think I can start patrolling. Riptide's hidden enough, I think. It's high time the villains of the Bay learned why a riptide is so deadly."

 **+++Waterworks+++**

 _A Week Later_

 _Second Primary Hold of the Evermore_

Seven… _Goddamn_ …Days!

Seven days where I could have been patrolling the streets, spent building a water-powered generator!

Granted, it told physics to fuck the hell off while giving them a double single-finger salute and was completely clean, leaving no carbon footprint and the only fuel component outside of a source of water was a reactive agent I could mix together using a few bulk bottles of household chemicals and only needed to be refilled once a month.

But still!

My whining and bitching about the unfairness of my physical limits to one side, it was actually satisfying to work on. Just me and the machine. No Bitches, no worries. Total peace and serenity. Until, y'know, I had to leg it back home to sleep for a couple of hours. Thank god I started making Dad's lunch from leftovers!

Still, the generator, (which I had dubbed the Charybdis to keep with my, apparent, Ancient Greek Mythology naming sense) was up and running now and the current power drain from my hard-light projects only accounting for a meager ten percent of its maximum output. I had plans for the other ninety, mostly involving internal and external weaponry, shields and other Tinkertech bullshit to really make an invader's day a bad one.

For now though, I was free to start my patrols. I had made the necessary modifications to my armour in order to let me fly. I had decided to call it the Triton Armour MK1, Mod 2. Triton was the son and Herald of his father, Poseidon, which worked for me. The armour would herald my arrival as a Cape, so it seemed appropriate. I had also renamed all my notes regarding the more powerful, power-assisted armour the Poseidon Armour for the time being.

I had also made some additions to the Triton Armour other than the flight capabilities. I had taken the noise cancellers and water-based optical camouflage systems from the drones and upgraded them to work for me when I was in the armour. I was now able to be silent as I flew, as well as invisible. It wouldn't do much for motion sensors or infrared sensors, but I had some ideas on how to overcome those in the future, but for now it would do.

There was also the pouch full of handcuffs, twelve of them, plus a bundle of zip-ties as a backup. I didn't like the idea of using zip-ties, mostly because one flick of a knife and they were cut through, but I had made these ones out of a special polymer that was slightly more resistant to being cut. That had been a pain to make, as it was _just_ outside of my specialisation.

Now I was checking and double-checking my armour, pouch and other gear before my first patrol. I had to admit, I was nervous as hell and totally worried about doing something stupid on my first real time out as a Cape. I didn't count that incident with the woman and the skinheads as an actual fight, as all I did was strike from the shadows. No, this time, I'd be playing a white knight, albeit one who used invisibility to conceal myself.

"You will do fine, Mistress Riptide." Amphitrite soothed me. She had been saying that for the past ten minutes.

"I hope so, otherwise I'll either be maimed, dead or conscripted into either the PRT or one of the Gangs." I said steadily. Just keeping the three least desirable outcomes fresh in mind. You know, to sharpen my focus.

"Your stress levels are rising, Mistress." Dang it. Why did I agree to let her monitor my vitals again? Oh, because it's a good idea to have someone ready the medikit in case things went pear-shaped in the field.

Taking in a deep breath, I held it for a moment before exhaling. OK, no more stalling and overthinking things. I was going to go out, I was going to patrol and I was going to be a hero. Right.

I grabbed my hair and tied it into a plait before rolling it into a bun. Long hair was just a handhold for the enemy to grab and use against you, or so a few articles Amphitrite had looked up had said. This would also make it harder to identify me, as I had also modified the helmet to fully enclose my head.

Grabbing aforementioned piece of armour, I looked at its faceplate for a moment. This was going to be the face of Riptide to the world at large. It looked like a metallic skull helmet from an Earth Aleph anime called _Blue Gender_ , although that wasn't the intent at all when I made it. I only knew about the existence of the anime because Amphitrite pulled up the image from the internet when I finished its modification yesterday.

The wide blue eyes were freaky as hell, especially when the helmet was powered on and they glowed. The overall effect was very unsettling, but hey, it worked for intimidation. Always a plus in my book.

Turning it around, I lowered the helmet onto my head and felt the mechanism hiss as it sealed itself closed. I swear I could feel a change start to come over me as my helmet sealed itself. In that moment I was now no longer Taylor Hebert; I was the Tinker Hero Riptide.

"Amphitrite, open the hold hatch." I ordered. "Once I'm gone, lock the base down until I get back."

Oh yeah, I'd also jiggered about with the large hold hatches on the main deck. I had already permanently sealed the ones leading to the hold where Amphitrite and my workshop was, but I actually repaired and improved on the hatch leading to the second hold where I was currently standing, granting Amphitrite complete control over them. She could now open and close them as quickly or as slowly as she wanted to…within reason, of course.

"Compliance. Safe journey, Mistress Riptide." My VI stated.

With the groan of metal on metal, the hatch moved to one side, revealing the slightly cloudy sky above me. A shimmer in the air, glowing softly in the night air, showed where a portion of the hard-light camouflage had dissolved to create an opening as well.

"Jetpack, ignite. Hover Mode." I ordered.

A dull roar and a slight tremble along my back told me that my order had worked. Hover Mode meant that unless I gave a specific order to the contrary, or I was already in the air, I would be floating about a meter above the ground-slash-deck. Just as I hoped, I moved up to the designated distance before halting there.

Mentally fist pumping, I gave my next order. "Deploy hydrokinetic wing system."

With a small whine of servos, the wings deployed. I'd had two choices to choose between when it came to them; either make them look vaguely bat-like, similar to a dragons, or make them look like the wings from a butterfly. I had no desire to piss off Lung in my first armour, so I had chosen the butterfly wings. They snapped out of their housing and extended. They weren't large, just about the size of a dinner plates for each quadrant.

The draconic wings would have been _way_ more efficient, but I'll keep that idea on the back burner for the moment.

"Activate the sound dampener and hydrokinetic obscuration system!" I ordered, while it was unlikely there was anyone nearby to see me leave the Evermore, it never hurt to be cautious. Instantly, the low hum of my jetpack cut off as the sound dampeners kicked in. Seconds later the air around me began to ripple slightly, indicating that the optical camouflage system had activated as well. It was a side-effect of the system being upsized to cover an entire person rather than a roughly foot-long drone.

I'd had to do some serious tweaking on that to make it so I could see through the haze, and even now the rippling would make it difficult to fight with the camouflage system active, and I had some ideas for how to lessen it, but for now it would serve its purpose.

"Liftoff!"

With a sound dampeners active there was only a I only heard a deep thrum and felt a heavy vibration from my back as my jetpack kicked in, accelerating me up, through the open hatch, and into the sky.

"Activate hydrokinetic wing system!" I yelled. There was another slight hum (only audible to my ears since I was right next to it) as the wings glowed blue and activated, the water in the air around me, as plentiful as it always was in rainy, dreary Brockton Bay, was bound by the field and turned into wings. With my hydrokinesis, I could alter them as I pleased to change my height and angle at a moment's notice.

I levelled off and turned towards Brockton Bay. Let's see what the criminal element was up to at this later hour…

 **+++Waterworks+++**

Evidently not much. Did villains and criminals have bank holidays?

I had been cruising around the Docks section of the Bay for fifteen minutes already, with no sign of so much as a mugging. This was odd in a city like Brockton Bay, where there were so many criminals that you generally just had to throw a brick to find a criminal of some description.

I turned myself to fly over the Boardwalk area. I severely doubted there'd be any criminals of any description here. Not only was this the most commonly assigned patrol area of the Protectorate and the Wards, there was also the shop of the Rogue Cape Parian, the clothing Cape, here. She was a strictly neutral player in the Cape scene of the Bay, but she had shown already that she was both capable and willing to use her powers to defend herself and her homes. Several gang recruiters had quickly learned that 'neutral' did not equate 'weak and easily browbeaten,' much to their pain and humiliation. The likelihood of a crime here was _very_ small.

The distant and distinctive sound of glass shattering made me sigh and roll my eyes. Of course, there _were_ those who were stupid enough to think that just because it was night, they could do as they pleased. I angled myself around and swooped in the direction of the sound. It didn't take me long to find the source. A group of ABB thugs were knocking over a shop full of…were those TVs? Yup. TVs and DVD Players and loading them into the back of a van rather quickly.

Really? What next, ripping an ATM out of a bank? How clichéd could these guys get? Ah well, whatever. These guys would do nicely as my first crime fighting scene and enemies. Lessee…no sign of Oni Lee or any other Capes, so…let's go.

From everything Amphitrite had gathered by trawling PHO and several local forums, the Azn Bad Boyz rarely carried guns unless they were raiding the territory of another gang, with the Empire actually being the ones to carry pistols more often than not. Still, less likely does _not_ equal unlikely, so carefully does it.

I flew in closer and hovered to count the gangbangers. One, two…seven of them outside of the big white van and two or three inside it, one in the driver's seat and two in the back, I think. None have any sign of pistols or assault rifles, just one with some kind of sword slung over one shoulder. Interesting.

Deciding that taking the bastards down quickly was what counted here, I hefted my right arm and opened the aperture three-fifths of the way, set the firing mode to a three-round burst and set the velocity of those rounds to the equivalent of an average rubber bullet.

Now, somehow, people have this idiotic impression that rubber bullets were easy to shrug off. They aren't. Being shot in the head by one can give you a concussion. Being shot in the _eye_ could make you _lose_ said eye. And being shot in the body can hurt like hell and even break _bones_ if the angle is just right. Calling them non-lethal ammunition was _technically_ true, but even a rubber bullet can kill in certain unlucky circumstances.

That being said, these were going to be water bullets fired at the velocity of an average rubber bullet and I'd be aiming carefully. I would be up high, where they couldn't counterattack and I was invisible to sight. The perfect ambush situation. But just in case…

A whispered command and the two rods on my left arm deploy, ready to spray water that I could turn into an ersatz shield. OK, preparations made. Time to beat down some ABB.

The firing trigger (an addition so I didn't have to consciously command every shot) dropped into my hand with another whispered command and I carefully aimed at one gangbanger who was standing next to the store's door, playing lookout. Gently, I squeezed the trigger.

There was some recoil from the three small balls of water being fired, but I'd practiced firing this before, so this was expected. I watched with a grin as the three shots slammed into the ABB grunt, sending him crashing to the ground with a yell of pain. I quickly track onto another grunt and fire, swiftly moving through the other ABB guys until all of them were staggering to their feet with their arms clutched around their abused torsos, where I'd aimed.

Deactivating the camouflage and noise cancelling systems, I altered the Hydro Cannon to fire thin piercing streams of water and puncture the tires of the van than I can see from this side. It won't be going anywhere anytime soon.

"CAPE!" one gangbanger shouted, pointing at me.

I activated my external speakers and the voice-changer so I'd sound gender neutral. "Stand down and surrender."

"Fuck you!"

Haaaah. Why can nobody _ever_ say something original?

"You aren't my type." I deadpanned back before deactivating my speakers and reconfiguring the Hydro Cannon to fire a large high-pressure stream of water. I unleashed it and then controlled it to wrap around as many of the ABB as possible before flooding them with water, wrapping them in a cocoon up to their necks, turning it into steel-hard water to keep them contained. That got six of them.

The leader started spewing words in some Asian language at me…Chinese, I think? Before grabbing his sword and gesticulating with it at me. I just reconfigured the Hydro Cannon back to rubber bullet mode and shot him again. He who lives by the sword, dies (or is fucked over) by the gun, bitch.

While I was dealing with the seven morons, the other three evaluated their chances and ran like hell. I let them go, pursuit would mean risking letting the ones I already had bound getting away. Seven out of ten isn't a bad score for my first night, if I do say so myself.

Landing and deactivating the jetpack and wings, I siphoned off a bunch of water from the six others' little prison to bind the guy hand and foot and drag him over to sit next to his fellow criminals.

"OK then." I said, turning the speakers back on and double-checking that yes, the voice-changer is still on. "I am Riptide. In Japanese, I think that would be 'Araumi' or something along those lines. And you guys have the honour of being the first criminals to be caught by me. Rejoice and all that."

A wave of invectives, both in broken English and in various foreign tongues, washed over me before I fired another burst past their heads, shutting them up.

"Now that you've finished proving your low IQs, was this raid organized by Lung or one of his Lieutenants or did you brainiacs think this up on your lonesome?" I asked in a bored tone. "It doesn't really matter, but I admit to curiosity."

"It was Ming's idea." One blurted out, nodding down at the bound former leader of their little troupe. "Lung-sama had no idea about this."

"Traitor!"

"Good to know." I nodded. "Now then…let's get you all ready for the law, shall we?"

In short order, I had them kneeling on the ground, their hands handcuffed behind their backs and their ankles zip-tied together. I sent the used water down a nearby storm drain and even dried off the ABB thugs as a mercy so they wouldn't catch a cold or something.

I also took the liberty of searching them for weapons and cash, ending up with several knives, a collapsible baton, a blackjack and the sword, which I identified as a katana thanks to a quick query to Amphitrite. There was also over $300 between them. What the heck? Were they planning on going on a spending spree after their robbery or something?

"Now remember, my name is Riptide." I informed the sullen gangbangers. "R.I.P.T.I.D.E. I seriously do not want the PRT to lump me with a lame-ass name like Chubster. That happens, I'll track you morons down and kick your asses again. We on the same wavelength here?"

A mutter.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you!"

"Yes." They chorused.

"And they say that old dogs can't learn new tricks." I nodded and grabbed a random phone before dialing the regular police hotline.

" _This is the BBPD Hotline. Please state the nature of the emergency._ " The woman on the other end said professionally.

"This is Riptide, a new Independent Hero." I said with a smirk. "I've just apprehended seven members of a ten-man ABB group who attempted to rob a store, Clever Kevin's Electronics, on the Boardwalk. I'm requesting pickup."

" _Request received, Riptide._ " The woman said, some surprise in her voice. " _Will you be there to hand them over and provide a statement?_ "

"Will that help put them behind bars?" I asked.

" _Yes._ " She answered emphatically.

"Then yes, I will." I said. "What's the ETA on a squad car getting here?"

" _As that property's silent alarm was tripped at the start of the break in, a car was dispatched as soon as we received it._ " The woman answered. " _Estimated three minutes to arrival._ "

"OK, I'll be waiting." I said and hung up before throwing the phone to the ground. "Looks like we'll be waiting together, guys. Cool, right?"

Groans answered my faux-cheerful words.

 **+++Waterworks+++**

The car, when it arrived, had a large, strong-looking man with a female officer as his partner. He had a bulbous red nose that told me he was a heavy drinker, while she had the 'so new she squeaks' shine about her that told me she was a rookie. Hoo boy, the clichés just keep on coming don't they?

"I'm Officer Hernandez. This is Officer Blake." The man introduced himself and his partner gruffly. "So, a smash and grab? Tch. Stupid gangbangers."

"Do you mind if we record your testimony…err…" Officer Blake starts before looking sheepish. "I'm sorry, but I can't remember your name."

"Of course, I don't mind." I answered with a nod. "And the name is Riptide."

"OK." She looks a bit freaked by the modulated electronic voice. "Uhh…do you have to sound like that?"

"If I want to keep my identity a secret, keeping as much of myself concealed as is possible is paramount." I stated. "That includes my voice."

"Oh…"

"Blake, just grab the damned recorder from the car." Hernandez grunted. I had made certain to keep away from the camera that all cop cars were reported to have on the dashboard. The less footage someone like Armsmaster had, the less he could figure out about how my armour worked and the weaknesses it had.

Once said recorder was retrieved and the recording started, I gave an abbreviated account of my capture of the seven ABB thugs, omitting several details regarding my tech and using generalities wherever possible. For example, I only clarified that the bullets I shot were strictly non-lethal and left no traces behind.

Y'know, other than the bruises.

Once the tape clicked off, Hernandez looked at me for a moment before nodded with…was that respect in his eye? "OK Riptide. Thanks for your assistance and it's a shame that you didn't grab the other three."

"One bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." I said with a small shrug.

"True enough." He allowed. "Blake, when's that wagon getting here?"

"Two minutes out, Steve." Blake called back from the car a moment later.

"Thank you, _Arabella_." The man growled.

"Just Bella, dammit!"

I stifled a chuckle at the antics of the two of them. "Well, I had better get going. Crime never sleeps."

"And don't I know it." Hernandez glowered in the direction of the gangbangers.

Letting a chuckle out this time, I turned and walked away. "Stay safe, officers."

"You as well, kid. You as well." Hernandez grunted.

I almost faltered when he called me kid, but I forced myself to keep moving. He seemed like the kind of man who would call someone a kid if he knew or suspected someone was younger than him, and I was certainly that.

Rounding the corner, I activated the sound dampener first, then hovered up and activated the camo system and flew back over to see what the two were saying.

"…reckon that was actually a kid?" Blake was asking.

"Dunno. Late teens, early twenties at best would be my guess." Hernandez replied with a shrug. "I'm almost forty, so that makes them a kid as far as I can tell."

"True." The woman admitted. "Do you think this Riptide 'll join the Wards or Protectorate?"

Hernandez snorted. "The guy made that set of armour along with those handcuffs. Riptide's like Armsmaster, a Tinker, although it doesn't look like they're as much of a social retard as Armsmaster can be. A new Tinker is very, _very_ vulnerable until they can make decent gear for themselves. That was _very_ decent gear this kid had on, so obviously there's been a lot of prep work put in to it. If Riptide was gonna join the Protectorate or the Wards, the guy'd've done it before building the armour."

"Wow."

I agreed with Arabella Blake. That was excellent reasoning. ' _Remember,_ _appearances can be very deceiving._ ' I reminded myself dryly

"Uh-huh. Also, notice how the kid never went into details about what that suit of his could do?" Hernandez carried on. "He or she doesn't want Armsmaster to have as much detail as he'd like to figure out the way her stuff works. Riptide also made sure to stay well away from the angles of our dash-cam, which reinforces that theory."

"Jeez, why aren't you a detective?" Blake gaped at her partner in astonishment.

"Don't want to be." Hernandez said flippantly. "Too much damn paperwork and office politics."

"Urgh…" the woman shook her head before continuing, "If Riptide doesn't join the Protectorate or the Wards, hell even New Wave would be an idea, the guy 'll get ganked sometime after the first month. You know the statistics."

"Those're the _averages_." The older cop retorted. "The _actual_ timeframe is something between six months to two years, and also includes them moving out of the city and joining places like Toybox and a few other indie teams. The actual number of _deaths_ is pretty low; the PRT and Protectorate like to use the statistics thing to scare the parents of newly Triggered Parahuman minors into the Wards. A dirty tactic, but it works."

Sonofa-! Oh, that is dirty and underhanded! Gah! Seriously, what little respect I still had for the PRT was starting to go down the drain if this was how they operated.

"There are a couple of freelance heroes who work outside of the Bay." Hernandez continued. "PRT classes them as Rogues…hah! They don't charge money for what they do, so I call bullshit. They're Independents, and the PRT, especially the local Director, Piggot, hates having indie heroes around. With Riptide operating inside the city though, the PRT ain't gonna be able to do that. They'll try to persuade Riptide to join them, or at least become an Affiliate of the PRT."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Blake said with a frown.

"It can be. Tinkers are something that the PRT likes to keep an eye on, not without reason." The older cop snorted. "Thing is, the bad ones, like Mannequin, Bonesaw and Blasto? They ruin things for the rest. Same applies to biokinetics like Nilbog. One bad apple and they want to throw the rest down the crapper."

"I think anyone would after Ellisburg." Blake pointed out dryly.

"Again, true, but judging someone by the power they have and not by how they use it is shortsighted and stupid." Hernandez explained. "Speaking of stupid, where the hell's that damn wagon? Did the idiot stop at a doughnut shop or something?"

I decided I had eavesdropped enough and headed back to the _Evermore_. Tonight had highlighted some flaws in my equipment. First, it was damn good equipment for fighting with, but didn't do so well for capturing people. Second, I had to streamline the verbal commands to a few settings rather than having to specify each aspect of the Hydro Cannon. Third…flying was cool.

After arriving back in the hold of the _Evermore_ , I went to the workshop and removed my helmet, the backpack, the Hydro Blaster and the Hydro Striker before getting drawn into building something that would be useful for covering the lack of capture-oriented equipment in my arsenal.

It was basically a souped-up water pistol (well, water _rifle_ ) that had an extra-long version of my Flasks of Storage holding the equivalent of three of the regular ones. As to its ammunition, I made it specifically to fire the faux-containment foam version of water I could create with my powers. I'd really _love_ to see a bunch of regular humans, or even someone who wasn't a Brute, get out of that anytime fast. The name was rather uninspired…the Goop Gun.

Something else I flashed upon was a grenade version of the Goop Gun. They'd explode, releasing the syrup-like water and covering whatever they hit with would make an excellent surprise weapon, so I made a dozen or so for my next patrol. I wanted to make a grenade launcher for them to be fired out of, but I got a headache trying to think of a design. Maybe it was too mundane? Crap.

Tabling that for the moment, I stifled a yawn and took off the rest of my Triton Armour, slipping back into my travelling clothes. I made some plans to start creating the internal defences for the _Evermore_ at some point. I could see turrets mounting hydro cannons, hydrokinetic partitions to block access and many other nasty traps for those who weren't supposed to be here.

 _Then_ I'd start building the external defences. Not to mention the offensive armaments.

Mind awhirl with blueprints and plans, I absently bid Amphitrite goodbye before heading home to my bed. I had debuted as a Cape, taken down seven gangbangers of the ABB and invented more stuff. Not only that, but things were looking up for my Dad and the Dockworkers as well.

Life was good.


	10. Ripple 2-2

**Beta'd by BigCC.**

"Damn you Sophia!" – Speech

' _Why_ _Emma?_ ' – Thought

 **Ripple 2.2**

 **+++Waterworks+++**

 _The Next Day_

 _Armsmaster's Lab, The Rig, Brockton Bay_

Collin Wallis, otherwise known as Armsmaster the Tinker Hero, would be the first to admit that social interactions were not his particular forte. Of course, he would _also_ quickly add that he viewed most of those same situations as wastes of time that could be used more productively in his lab.

Sadly, his ambitions for advancing up the ladder in the National Protectorate required a certain amount of socialization on his part. So, with the help of Dragon, his best friend and a fellow Tinker whose level of ability he _deeply_ respected, he had constructed a social interpretation interface function into his helmet to help guide him through the mire of social double-speak.

It also worked as a lie detector, though reaching an acceptable level of accuracy with that function was still very much a work in progress.

"Colin, the Director wants to see you." Dragon, coming through over his lab's speaker system, quickly jarred him from his analysis of his newly modified helmet.

Straightening up, Colin forcefully suppressed a growl of irritation at the interruption. It wasn't Dragon's fault that Director Piggot always called him in the middle of one of his Tinkering sessions. "Has she said what it is she wishes to see me about?" he asked aloud.

"No, just that she would appreciate it if you could see her in person as soon as possible." His friend said apologetically.

In person. That meant this was either important, classified, or he'd done something to irritate her again. Usually the encrypted communication lines and visual conference system he'd built into his lab were enough to handle most discussions, but operational security (or Piggot's temper) still demanded face-to-face meetings.

It also meant he'd have to ride into Brockton Bay proper, spend who knows _how_ much time on needless formalities and actually dealing with whatever issue it was, and then ride back to The Rig. That would likely eat up most of his assigned 'Tinkering Time' for the morning and he was on the roster for patrol this afternoon as well.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, Colin nodded. "Tell her I'll be on my way."

"I'm sorry Colin." The digital image that Dragon preferred, a young woman with absolutely average features and mousy brown hair, looked at him sadly.

"It isn't your fault Dragon." He shook his head. "Could you do me a favour while I'm out and look over the code again? I'm…well, you know what I'm like with social situations and I'm fairly certain I've gotten a few of the response algorithms wrong based on my own predispositions."

"Of course Colin." Dragon's image nodded. "Should I correct the errors and send an e-mail to your account or just the latter?"

Colin frowned in thought for a moment. He usually disliked having others so much as touch his inventions before they were completed but…"Change them. I trust you, Dragon." he decided with a small smile. Dragon looked happy, so he considered that a successful social situation.

As he changed into his armour, he briefly wondered why it was that he was better at social situations with mature Tinkers than he was with other Parahumans or even _immature_ Tinkers. Until Dragon explained to him why it was Kid Win had almost had a nervous breakdown, he hadn't understood why pushing the boy so hard was a bad idea.

Assault, formerly Madcap, teased him about his work ethic, but that was simply because the dynokinetic did not understand what being a Tinker was _truly_ about. Unlike with almost any other type of Parahuman, the equipment that a Tinker created was absolutely and completely vital to their ability to fight, especially when their specialty wasn't as… _grandiose_ as some others. Miniaturization and efficiency were not an especially dynamic or destructive power set, so he had to be sure everything was working at 110%, 24/7, in order for him to fight on the same level as people who could shatter concrete with a pinkie and outpace a cheetah without breaking a sweat.

Making the most of his specialty had been something he'd been learning to do since he first joined the Wards. His choice of signature weapon was an excellent example of that. He could pack literally dozens of useful gadgets into the haft of a halberd and still have it strong enough to resist a blow from the Fenja/Menja twins.

Though that _ridiculous_ nickname that some Wards (and people on PHO) had coined for him because of his choice was rather irksome at times.

Ha. 'Halbeard' indeed.

As he exited the private elevator that connected the personnel parking area on the lowest level to the rest of the rig, he couldn't help but smile as he caught sight of another example of using his specialty to its fullest. Even _Assault_ agreed that his motorbike was a work of art. It had more horsepower than any commercial or racing motorbike, a compact gyrostabilizer that prevented it falling over while the engine was running, encrypted wireless that linked to his armour and built-in sheathes that could carry and deploy several of his halberds at a time.

It also had silent running, for when he didn't need to intimidate people with the roar of an engine, which tended to make long drives far more pleasant without the need for ear protection.

He couldn't keep the slight smile off his face as he felt the machine roar to life beneath him. Pulling out, he slowly drove toward the exit, which apparently consisted of only a metal toll gate separating the rig from a roughly hundred foot drop into the Bay. That is until one of the remote sensors built into his bike beeped and the 'Driveway' activated, creating a flat plane of hard-light just over 15 ft. wide with a small barrier on each side reach just over 3 feet in height.

The 'Driveway' hard-light projection system was old, built by one of the Brockton's first resident Tinkers named Hardlight (who had died in a battle against the Behemoth when Armsmaster was still a Ward) for both security and emergency evacuation purposes, but it had been religiously and thoroughly maintained. The system was automatically activated three times a day for change in personnel shifts, and was set up to allow all stationed personnel a quick way to evacuate without having to rely on a ferry.

As a Protectorate Cape, he was one of the few who had access to a remote activation rather than having to wait for a scheduled one.

Pulling into the PRT's underground car park, the IFF he had in his bike automatically opened the wall that led into the concealed area that housed all of the vehicles used by members of the Protectorate, which was mostly just him and Miss Militia. Assault and Battery could get around without transportation, the same for Dauntless thanks to his flying boots. Velocity went without saying. Triumph was too new to have an idea whether he wanted a bike or not, but if he did, no doubt the PR Department would want one that went with his costume.

Minutes later, Armsmaster sat in a conference room with Miss Militia, Director Piggot and Deputy Director Renick. Emily Piggot had once been a front line Parahuman Response Team Trooper, until she had been grievously wounded during the Ellisburg Debacle. Now she was almost criminally obese due to the damage done to her kidneys and she refused to 'waste Panacea's valuable time with a frivolity.'

What that _actually_ meant was that she was still nursing a heavy distrust of all Parahumans, born after the Capes in Ellisburg had fled, leaving her men to be slaughtered. That being said, she was pointedly and scrupulously fair to _all_ of her subordinates, saving her rancor for parahumans who actively abused their powers. The last time that had happened, the Cape in question had been transferred to a Simurgh Containment Zone indefinitely.

"So Emily, what's the reason for the emergency meeting?" Renick asked tiredly. He had brown hair and was a somewhat handsome man wearing a basic suit, though his were bloodshot and he had noticeable bags under them as well. The man was clearly dead on his feet.

"Last night, a new Parahuman revealed themselves." Piggot answered shortly. She shuffled some papers in front of her. "Ten members of the ABB attempted to rob an electronics store, only to be stopped by this new Parahuman. Here are copies of the report."

Armsmaster took the folder and scanned it. A fairly standard ABB robbery party, ten men including one low-level gang lieutenant. They had, naturally, smashed the closest security cameras and the data storage system for it. There were no offsite backups of the data, so that was a wash. The new Parahuman, a vigilante, had systematically taken down seven of them, limiting the damaged dealt to only a few bruises. Three had fled and the Parahuman had let them to retain the other seven. The Parahuman had stayed to give a statement to the police and then left.

"It seems we have a competent vigilante on our hands." Miss Militia observed. "I'm seeing a distinctly short series of witness statements here, Director."

"Yes. The seven captured ABB have refused to discuss anything aside from the name of the Cape who captured them…Riptide." The Director stated. "From what the two officers who met with Riptide have put in their reports, it appears we have a new Tinker in the Bay."

This caught Armsmaster's attention. "A Tinker? Is there any video evidence from the police car?"

"No." Piggot frowned. "Riptide, who uses a voice scrambler so we have no idea if they're male or female, was _very_ careful to stay out of sight of the squad car's dash-cam, and the only camera that _could_ have covered that area was broken several nights ago, likely in preparation for this robbery. From the vague descriptions that both officers gave, Riptide wears a form of blue unpowered armour, with weapons mounted on the arms. Additionally, Riptide had an 'odd contraption' of some sort on their back. That is basically all we have at this point."

Which was substantially less than what they knew about most new Capes after their first outing, Armsmaster knew. Rookie Capes generally had substandard costumes, next to no idea about the Cape scene other than what they had read on PHO (substantially wrong, for the most part) and generally cocked up by almost getting killed on their first outing.

In this case, it had been a mixture of fortuitous happenstance, some caution and a lot of back luck on the Protectorate's part that meant that Riptide was virtually an unknown in regards to equipment. Armsmaster was good but the incredibly vague descriptions that he was reading now told him virtually nothing about the equipment, other than the fact that it was indeed Tinker made.

"There is also this sketch of the faceplate of the armour Riptide was wearing." Piggot slid it over for the perusal of the Capes. "Apparently the eyes glow blue."

Both Armsmaster and Miss Militia peered at the sketch, which showed a mask that vaguely resembled a metal skull.

"Opinions?" the Director asked.

"The mask is designed, at least in part, to intimidate." Miss Militia stated tapping the crude drawing. "To strike fear into those who see it. A couple of seconds of hesitation would give the wearer all the time in the world to launch attacks before they can recover."

"The visor also likely holds a form of HUD, allowing Riptide to view the status of her weapons, if her armour actually has any built in." Armsmaster added, his own helmet had a similar system that linked to both his armor and several of his halberds. "As it covers the face entirely, and this mask seems to be part of a helmet, it would not surprise me if she had a rebreather or even a breathing apparatus connected to an internal air supply."

His own helmet could be fitted with such a mask, but PR reigned supreme in the Protectorate and as such, they had to 'show they were humans, not Stormtroopers' to quote Glenn Chambers. That meant showing some facial features, such as mouths or hair whenever it could be helped. The only Ward who got away with not doing so was Shadow Stalker, and that was only because she had a 'pre-established image' to work with, and she had stubbornly refused any attempts to rebrand her.

Piggot tapped the picture again. "Renick, your opinion?"

"Whoever it is, I doubt they have any intentions of joining the Wards or Protectorate." Renick offered tiredly, as he rubbed his eyes. He paused for a moment, clearly fighting back a yawn. "If they had wanted to do so, they would have come in immediately after they managed to build something that could prove they were a Tinker. What worries me is that we haven't heard anything from the Overwatch Initiative we have set up in the Bay and yet this Riptide character clearly managed to scrounge enough together to build a suit of armour and at least one form of weapon as well. That leaves us with three options: 1) There's a hole in the Overwatch that we need to find, 2) Riptide has access to some preexisting store of supplies and raw materials or 3) they have backers. And I'm worried that 3 is the likeliest bet."

"You suspect that this Riptide may be a new member of the Merchants or Empire?" Miss Militia asked doubtfully. "The name doesn't fit either of their naming conventions."

"Neither does 'Cricket' but she's a member of the Empire regardless." Piggot responded simply, a frown on her lips. "I confess to being hesitant to rule Riptide a villain without more evidence than a lack of it to the contrary."

"Especially not after only a single outing, with no showing of excessive force, and without having some of our people question them in person." Renick agreed tiredly, rubbing his forehead absently. "I was merely playing devil's advocate, Emily. You must admit that it would take quite a bit of serendipity to become a lone Tinker without triggering our Overwatch Initiative."

"It has happened before, Deputy Director." Armsmaster stated. "Mostly with minor Biotinkers, but it has happened. Dismissing the possibility is unwise."

"Agreed." Piggot nodded sharply. "I want all Protectorate members briefed on the general description of this Riptide and instructions given to make friendly contact."

"And the Wards?" Renick asked.

The overweight woman regarded the very brief profile, which included an estimated height. "With this height, Riptide is likely to be in their late teens, so past Wards age. Still, there are people who are taller than average…very well. Issue the same orders to the Wards. Make it especially clear to Clockblocker that he is _not_ to act the fool or he will be on console duty for the next five years."

Armsmaster grimaced. Clockblocker, ever since his debut, had a habit of pushing the rules of decorum to their limits. He knew that the boy was a lot smarter and sharper than his clown-like behavior would lead most to believe, much like Assault was.

Having to deal with the both of them at the same time was almost as bad as dealing with Mouse Protector back when they were both Wards themselves.

"I'll tell him myself." He promised.

"Good. Dismissed." Piggot ordered briskly. "I have to go on dialysis now, so you'll have to excuse me."

The fat woman stood up and walked carefully towards the door, leaving.

"Deputy Director, I'm advising you that you require sleep, urgently." Armsmaster stated as his helmet's built in scanners analysed the man's state and brought up several warnings to his visor's HUD. "By my count, you've been on duty well beyond regulation hours."

"Had to deal with new regulations coming in from the National PRT." Renick grunted as he forced himself to stand. "Damn it…why are they piling _more_ work on us that keeps us from doing our jobs?"

Miss Militia and Armsmaster exchanged looks. For the past few years, fewer Capes were being assigned to the Protectorate ENE and a fair few promising heroes had been transferred out, with only the native-born Brocktonites not having that risk. On the PRT side, they had been given less equipment and personnel than a city with the Parahuman population that Brockton Bay had deserved, which was ludicrous.

The Empire 88 alone outnumbered the current Protectorate and Wards combined, even with the PRT backing them up. That ignored Lung, the Dragon of Kyushu, and Oni Lee, not to mention the Archer's Bridge Merchants, the Undersiders, Coil, and the other minor players active throughout the city.

Although Armsmaster had been grateful for the promotion, he was aware that he was not the best choice to lead the Protectorate in the Bay. Miss Militia did not want to be in a leadership role, Assault was too irreverent, Battery too uptight, Velocity too low-key and Triumph had still been far too new at the time. He was simply made leader because he was both willing and had experience, a fact that still irked him sometimes.

Despite having only recently joined the Protectorate, Dauntless showed more leadership qualities than he ever did. The younger Parahuman was charismatic, sociable, and had a head for politics, all qualities that Armsmaster, much to his frustration at times, did not possess. There was a reason he'd selected Dauntless as his chosen replacement in case he was rendered unfit for duty (or worse) over several of his more senior peers.

"We'll get through it like always." Miss Militia soothed the exhausted Deputy Director. "Now, get someone to drive you home. The last thing we need is for you to collapse and get hospitalized."

With a nod and a jaw-cracking yawn, Renick left, almost staggering out of the door and closing it behind him.

"Do you think the Director will try the same tactics she used to recruit Shadow Stalker?" Armsmaster asked his designated Second-in-Command.

"Unlike Stalker, this Riptide character actually seems to understand the word 'restraint.'" The former child soldier shook her head. "Not only is there no _evidence_ to use against Riptide, there's no _reason_ to follow the same tactics and potentially alienate a possible ally. There's no pressing need to get a murderess off the streets."

The fact that technically, Sophia Hess, Shadow Stalker, hadn't meant to kill the skinhead she had staked to a wall was irrelevant. She had done it and given Emily Piggot all the excuse she'd needed to order her brought in and practically press-ganged into the Wards. While some would call it a severe reaction, it had been as much for Shadow Stalker's protection as anything else. Involuntary manslaughter or not, the Empire _would_ have hunted Stalker down and killed her for killing one of their members had the Protectorate and PRT not stepped in.

The girl herself didn't see it like that though. She bucked, pushed, and twisted the rules whenever and wherever she could, trying to make herself as independent of the other Wards as possible and constantly tearing them down verbally. Vista, one of the friendliest and most open people Colin had ever met, refused to go on patrol with the other girl.

That was a big an indicator of just how toxic Shadow Stalker _was_ , even without her contempt for the Protectorate and its rules.

"I'll write up the briefing. You can go back and finish your Tinkering in peace." Miss Militia told him with a smile that he only saw due to her eyes crinkling.

"Thank you." He said gratefully. "I'll see you at six."

Heading back down to his bike, he sighed. Armsmaster disliked relying on unscientific feelings such as 'instinct', 'guts' and 'impulse', but he did believe that experience could also lead to almost instinctive reactions to stimuli the active mind couldn't always consciously perceive. Right now, that 'experience' was telling him that something was going to happen soon, and it was going to be big. That meant had had better get his new upgrades in order.

With a specialisation in miniaturization and efficiency, the early days of his career as a Tinker had been a constant and heady high of success and growth. Every upgrade, every new device, every tweak, had helped refine his fighting capabilities and make him that much more effective. Now, it was taking more and more effort and research to create any real growth in his abilities. He was beginning to fear he'd plateaued and was fast approaching a point of diminishing returns.

It was only thanks to his friendship with Dragon that he had been able to work on a couple of new projects that might immeasurably add to his combat potential. The nanothorn project would hopefully allow his halberd's blade to cut through almost anything, while the far more minor miniaturized expanding containment foam grenades (plus launcher) would save some room on his bike for other, more vital equipment.

The drive back was relaxing, which was something of a surprise. Ever since his Trigger it had been growing steadily harder for him to relax when he wasn't involved in Tinkering. If it was a particularly complex project, he couldn't even sleep until it was completed.

Evidently he had discovered a way to relax. That was useful. He'd have to tell Dragon.

When he got back to his lab, Dragon was still there. Her image looked up and smiled.

"Colin, how was your meeting?" she asked. "I was just about to send the e-mail with the corrections I made to your program. Do you want to hear them instead?"

"That would be nice, Dragon." Colin said as he took his helmet off. "After that, I've got some interesting news for you…"

 **+++Taylor+++**

Another day, another bout of shopping. It really was bizarre how much food, cleaning products and other things we went through when there was just the two of us living in the house. Maybe I should cut down on experimenting with different dishes a bit?

The various shops I went to were, for the most part, family-run businesses. I was a frequent customer and they sometimes gave me a good discount on what I bought if it was the last in stock of a particular produce or if they were close to their expiration date. Thanks to that I'd been able to keep our food expenses low.

Being weighed down by bags of food and the like wasn't good in a city like Brockton, so I had splurged on a wheeled bag carrier. It was a fairly big one, so I could haul a fair amount of food and stuff around…although it got pretty heavy if I filled it to the brim.

Like it was right now.

"Stupid… _heavy_ …bag!" I grunted as I dragged it up to my house. I remembered about that rotten step this time and managed to avoid it, but Dad was _really_ going to have to do something about it at some point.

Despite my current irritation, I was still walking on air after my takedown of those ABB grunts last night. I didn't know what the PRT or Protectorate were thinking right now, and frankly I didn't much care. I was undeniably a hero and there was _nothing_ Sophia could do about it.

I still didn't know if the heroes knew about what Sophia had done to me, and a part of me was scared to find out. On one hand, if they knew what Sophia had done, then they were guilty of doing nothing when a psychopath was torturing people. On the other hand, if they didn't know what she had done, then they were incompetent and complacent.

It worried me a bit that I honestly didn't know which option was worse.

Once I finished putting away all of the groceries and other purchases, I sat down and did my schoolwork for the day. I had thought in the beginning that the lack of a classroom environment would hinder me, but I couldn't have been more wrong. Rather, without having to worry about my peers sabotaging/pranking me, I was sailing ahead in the material. In all of my classes, I was ahead by at least a few weeks. If things kept going this well, I might be able to test for my GED by the end of the year. At worst, I'd be able to get it after my next birthday.

Of course, a GED was just the start. I would need to do something to make Dad believe I was preparing for a proper job, one that didn't involve me going out and fighting villains, so I'd likely have to sign up for some college courses as well. Computer programming was something I was quite good at, if I do say so myself, even before my Trigger, and I'd only gotten better since. So that was a good option.

I could easily get a place near the Boat Graveyard (it'd probably be cheap too) and 'work from home' using a PC. A lot of people liked laptops, but I'll admit that I was a bit old fashioned in that regard.

What frustrated me was the sheer amount of _work_ that it was going to take to accomplish all of that; time I could be spending training my powers or building my tech. I could see the appeal of joining a team for stuff like this.

Once my work was done, I sat back and thought about the issue I had with my Goop Grenades and the fact my power was being a snob in regards to grenade launchers. Just about the only grenade launcher I knew about from watching films was the single-shot grenade rifle thing that Arnold whatshisname used in the Earth Aleph _Terminator_ films, the M79. While it obviously did its job, it was a break-action reload type and only fired one round at a time before you had to reload it.

Way too inefficient to meet the needs of a heroine in one of the most crime-ridden cities in the US.

Researching the subject on the internet netted me several types of grenade launchers, including the M79, but most of them were the type used by a team of at least two soldiers. Then I hit the jackpot. There were two mass-produced grenade launchers that fit my needs. One was the Milkor MGL, while the other was RG-6 grenade launcher. The main reason these were my choices was mainly because quite a few of the others had no pictures. Both fired 40mm ammunition and both used a revolver-like 'barrel' to hold the rounds.

Thanks to my 'Magic Bottle' technology I could create a round as small as a bullet that could hold an entire oil barrel's worth of liquids, so size was a nonissue. I could even create a special gauntlet to supplement my current loadout. No…my gauntlets are already full to the brim with weaponry as it is. So then…maybe a mounted, turret-like addition? Yes…one linked to my HUD so I could visually track my targets and fire it with a verbal command.

Before I knew it, I had a design sketched out on my pad. It looked good. Hmm…I could also make it collapsible, so that when I wasn't actively using it would blend in perfectly with the rest of my shoulder armour. With the right parts and adjustments I could have the deployment time down to a few seconds before it was online and ready to fire.

Having two, one on each shoulder, would be optimal, or perhaps a secondary form of turret-based weaponry. Ooh, if I adjust the base mounting like this, I can make them interchangeable and could remove and replace them with different weapon designs as needed. You can never have too many weapons in a city like the Bay.

I also sketched out plans for a machine that would automate the process of mixing my 'Goop' so I wouldn't have to take away valuable Tinkering time to make new batches. I was also thinking ahead for if/when someone other than Dodge eventually gets to see my workshop. Pointing out the machines that turned water into Goop would definitely divert attention from thoughts of me possibly being a hydrokinetic.

Dad got back fairly late, but he'd warned me a while ago that that was going to be a possibility with the recent projects going on. Luckily for us, the guys at the Dockworkers Union knew he had a teenaged daughter and made sure to pack him off home before he fell asleep at his desk.

Once he had eaten his dinner (a rather nice hamburger) and was snoring away in his bed, I headed off to the _Evermore_. The first thing I did once there was do a quick stock check of my remaining raw materials. It had taken a bit more than I had expected to build the generator I'd designed, but I'd also gotten more out of the trade with Toybox than I'd been expecting. In the end I was easily able to determine that I had more than enough left for both of the little projects I had in mind.

Miniaturization was not easy, but thankfully my Tinker specialty of 'I can do it so long as it has anything to do with using, processing or containing water' made the tech possible. At the end of a couple of hours, I had a pair of motorized, collapsible, detachable, miniature grenade turrets mounted on the shoulder plates of my Triton armour.

Being a Tinker was the Best Kind of Bullshit!

"Mistress Riptide, you have a message from Dodge of Toybox, requesting a meeting at your convenience." Amphitrite informed me calmly after I finished. "The message was received five minutes ago."

"OK…send a message back that if Dodge wishes to come over, he can do so in…five minutes." I said after checking the time. I then donned my armour, turned on the voice scrambler, and headed to the bridge of the _Evermore_. I really had to think about changing the name of the ship, as it certainly wasn't the same ship as when I first set foot on it. Something nautical, but not necessarily Greek like the rest of my names…eh, I'd give it some thought, as I only had a success rate of 1-in-3 when it came to naming things.

"Yo." Dodge greeted me when he teleported in. "Whoa, that's one seriously scary mask you've got there."

"All the better to keep the criminals in line." I answered with an unseen smirk. "So, how can I help you?"

"Let's get down in your workshop proper first." The Rogue Tinker said with a nod towards the door.

Deciding not to make an issue of it, I lead him down there.

"I notice that you've got a collapsible backpack of some sort there." He said as we walked.

"Hydrokinetic wing system, plus water-powered jet propulsion." I filled him in. "It's quite useful."

"I can imagine." The red-costumed Tinker muttered in disbelief. "You do realise how _ridiculously_ broad your specialty is? I may have under-rated your Tinker abilities."

"It has its uses, but most devices I make are things I can do far easier with my hydrokinetic abilities." I answered with a small shrug. "My Tinker abilities are mainly used for me to conceal my real powers from the scrutiny of the PRT."

"Sensible." Dodge said. "Drought is thinking of retiring, according to the grapevine. The scrutiny that the PRT puts on him is really starting to get to him, apparently."

The message there was clear; I was very much in the right to be wary of letting my actual abilities known. Good to know.

"So, what's with the sudden request?" I asked once we got to my main workshop. "And since when can you message Amphitrite?"

"To answer in reverse order, your VI started an e-mail account a couple of nights ago that she then sent her own greetings and a request to use that for non-vital communications between you and us." The Movement Tinker stated. "While none of our VI have any evolution capability, there are certain functions that become active when a certain amount of time passes after the transferal of ownership and some other criteria."

"What kind of criteria?" I asked suspiciously.

"If we sell a VI to a Tinker, one example is that they will not address you with respect until they witness you using your power to build something." Dodge explained. "That is more of a little prank on the part of Networker, who writes the VI. But anyway. To the reason for my visit."

He leaned against the wall and continued. "As you know, Toybox is a group of Tinkers who does not take part in any sort of conflict, not even the Endbringer battles. We mutually support one another and we sell our tech either to the highest bidder or act as intermediaries to the few independent Tinkers that exist outside of hero and villain groups. Someone has come to us with a request for an engine for a yacht that doesn't use fossil fuels. None of us are really suited for this kind of request, but then Big Rig suggested offering the commission to you, since your specialty and this request seem to mesh quite well."

I was taken aback. "I'm…flattered, but isn't this a request for Toybox?"

"In the case that Toybox has no Tinkers with the specialty necessary to complete a job request, we instead act as an intermediary to any Independent Tinkers we have an acceptable working relationship with who might be able to do so in our stead." Dodge said with a nod. "We negotiate with the Tinker in question and discover what the price they might ask is, or we communicate the initial offer of the client to the Tinker. Toybox takes a 5% cut of any monetary payment as a brokering fee. If necessary, we also pay the Tinker for materials if, as in this case, the request is very much abrupt."

Marshalling my thoughts, I focused on what I was going to ask here. I didn't have any problems with making something for cash, but I was nervous about who I would be building it for.

"It isn't a villain or criminal who asked for it…is it?"

"Oh no." Dodge shook his head immediately. "While Toybox itself refuses to take sides in the whole hero/villain game, we at least respect the positions that other Independent Tinkers might take, so we only give jobs to heroic Tinkers that are either from heroic-inclined or neutral clients, while villains deal with villains or neutrals. Keeps things civil and prevents any contracts from getting unnecessarily complicated."

It was a system that made sense in my opinion. I certainly wouldn't have anything to do with any villains wanting my tech. Well, villains like the ABB, Empire 88 or Merchants anyway.

"So how much is this client willing to fork out for their engine?" I asked.

"An initial offer of seventy-five thousand dollars." The other Tinker rolled his eyes. "He thinks that a newbie Tinker wouldn't know that that's chump change for what we can make. We argued him up to twice that."

"A hundred and fifty thousand dollars?!" I felt my jaw unhinge slightly at the amount, luckily my mask hid most of it.

"Minus Toybox's 5% cut, yes." Dodge nodded. "That works out at $14250 for you. If I'm making the right calculations here, you should have used up quite a few supplies to build a generator."

"Yeah…you guessed it would happen?" I said, somewhat embarrassed.

"Eh, it's a rookie mistake. Fresh Tinkers have a bad habit of getting so swept up in a project we end up putting the cart in front of the horse at times. Didn't warn you since it's one of those lessons you have to experience firsthand to really get it to sink in." Dodge shrugged. "I made the same kind of mistake, so did most of Toybox."

"OK. Next time I'll budget for a generator first." I said in slight mortification. I really should have thought about building my base first rather than my armour. Tunnel vision at its best, I suppose. Live and learn.

"So whaddya think?" the Toybox Tinker asked.

"Well…I'd need to see the size needed as well as the thrust and speed requirements." I said hesitantly. "Also, will the engine be powering the whole yacht or will it just be used for propulsion?"

"I have the basics here." Dodge said, pulling a folded piece of printer paper out of a pocket in his costume. "Also, it's just propulsion; the client has a regular engine for the rest of the boat's power. He just wants an engine that will not cost him a bomb fuel-wise."

That made me frown. "I can make a specific mix of chemicals that acts as the catalyst to turn water into fuel, but only I can make it."

"Good. Then you have the monopoly on it and thus a dedicated customer." The older Tinker said simply. "That's a good business strategy. If you make it so the engines parts include modular slots so any broken or worn parts can be easily taken out and replaced, it would make you even more money."

I froze. That…that was such an obviously useful idea, not just for this project but for the rest of my equipment, that I felt like hitting myself for not thinking of it earlier. If I could build modular weapons units and have slots in the gauntlets…

Dodge clicked his fingers in front of my face, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Sorry. You looked as if you were going to start tearing your armour apart."

"Stupid Tinker Fugue." I muttered.

"Yeah. It sucks." The red-clad Tinker said sympathetically. "Now, given the dimensions of what I've given you, do you need more materials or can you build it with what you've got?"

I returned my attention to the paper he'd given me, unfolding it and scanning everything written on it. I let my Tinker out to calculate everything.

"I can build about 85% of it with the materials I have on hand." I said after a moment. "If you give me a minute, I can give you a detailed list of what I need to finish it."

"So you're taking the job?" I could tell Dodge was smiling.

"Yup. Tell the client that his engine will be built by the Waterworks." I smiled. It really made a better organisation name than a Cape name.

"A false name for a fake group to hide who you really are…clever." Dodge admitted. "How long do you think it'll take you?"

"About three…no, five days." I said with a frown. "Due to my situation, I can only work during the night, which slows me down a bit. The design I have in mind is fairly robust and easy to build for me, but it will mean taking time away from my own projects. Ah well. It'll be good practice for when I replace the _Evermore's_ engines."

"You actually plan on making this ship _mobile_ again?" Dodge asked with what might be realization in his voice.

"And submersible. And flight-capable." I grinned beneath my mask, feeling almost giddy at the half-formed project. "Not to mention armed and armoured to the teeth. It never hurts to have a getaway plan."

"Oh-ho! Very clever." Dodge smirked. "Now let's talk business…"

By the time he left and I went home, I had finished building the basic frame of the engine and prepared several parts to be placed when I got in the next night. Even with the cut Toybox was taking, and the money for the materials to finish the engine, that was a nice large nest egg to sit on. Dodge had also asked for some of my Replacium (I still hate that name) so Toybox could spruce up more than a few areas of their base that had fallen into disrepair. That deal had earned me some more materials and tools.

I would build. I would train. I would do everything I could to become stronger. I would fight. I was a hero, after all.

 **+++Waterworks+++**

 _The Next Day_

 _Office, Unknown Location_

The room was designed like a fairly ordinary office. Granted it looked to be a fairly expensive one, like that of some high-level executive, but still ordinary for all that. Bookcases, rugs, painting, etcetera, etcetera. The one thing that was out of place in the room was the basic office desk that was the centerpiece of the room. It had had a computer tower unit, keyboard, mouse and monitor, not to mention mounds of paperwork, on its surface like any office desk, but the desk looked as if it had been bought from a garage sale several decades ago.

Which was precisely what the person sitting in the chair behind said desk _wanted_ people to think. He wanted those who saw his desk think he didn't care for where and on what he worked, despite the opulent surroundings. The desk had actually been bought brand new and carefully aged artificially to look old whilst still being 100% solid.

A rather simple mind-game, but the man who owned it loved his games in all their forms.

The man in question was dressed in a black skinsuit that was tight enough to show individual ribs. A white serpent wound its way up one leg, around his abdomen, up his back and coiling around his head to rest on his forehead. He was skinny and tall, which was why his ribs showed.

The Parahuman Coil, otherwise known as former PRT Squad Captain, now Contracted Consultant, and Founder and CEO of Fortress Construction Thomas Calvert, regarded the sheet of paper in front of him. It was a very sparse report for holding such important information, he reflected.

Tinkers were one of the two most sought-after types of Parahumans, along with Thinkers. Coil himself was a Thinker, and he had 'convinced' another, Sarah Livsey/Lisa Wilbourn, to join him. He also had received information of a very young Trigger who was quite possibly THE most powerful precog on the planet that he planned to add to his little organisation.

Well, most powerful after that _bitch_ Contessa, anyway.

Cauldron, he mused, was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, they had given him his power of [Parallel Cognition], allowing him to view two possible futures based upon a choice between one decision and another. It made him virtually unbeatable as a strategist, because it gave him two bites at the apple, as it were. On the other hand, he had exhausted enough capital to bankroll any three Parahuman warlords in Africa for half a year with the amount they had charged him. Plus the mere fact they knew about his power made them a threat to him.

To return to the subject at hand, this 'Riptide,' who had stopped a petty little robbery the night before last, had been more than slightly frustrating to both the PRT and himself. Unlike that idiotic, drug-addled fool Squealer, there had been no signs of someone raiding the junkyards for parts, or buying used TVs at second-hand stores.

As most Tinkers had the impulse control of an addict on withdrawal when it came to building their tech, this meant several possibilities. One, that the Tinker power Riptide possessed was so weak that its impulses to disassemble and reassemble tech could be suppressed. Two, that Riptide had already found backers. Three, that 'Riptide' was an Independent or former Protectorate Cape who had rebranded. Four, that the new Tinker had already been 'recruited' by one of the gangs or other groups in Brockton Bay.

The last was the easiest to discover, as Coil had been working to place moles and informants into every major power in the Bay, as well as many of the minor ones. As such, he was fairly certain that the Empire did not have Riptide. Racists were _so_ easy to bribe and control. Play a bit to their idiotic preconceptions and they'd dance along like puppets on a string.

On the other hand, he KNEW that the ABB had recently acquired a new Tinker; the psychopathic Bakuda, who had held Cornell University hostage. He wished the Dragon of Kyushu luck with keeping _that_ bitch under control. A bit of research had revealed several clear signs of an ego the size of the continental United States, along with a constantly clashing inferiority complex and superiority complex. She wanted everything and everyone to acknowledge that she was the best and yet a part of her whispered that she was not good enough, which constantly goaded her to prove herself wrong and made her see insults and provocations where there was none. Her rebellion against Lung was only a question of _when_ , not _if_.

As for the Merchants, they had a Tinker already, one that had possibilities. If properly used, Squealer's vehicular specialty could be immensely powerful and useful. Sadly, the white-trash fool was completely besotted with Skidmark and was addicted to enough drugs that her blood chemistry looked more like a pharmacy's inventory. Simply put, she was damaged goods that would take too much effort to obtain, control and repair to be worth the effort. She was also jealous of her position as the sole villainous Tinker in the Bay (the moronic L33t didn't count in anyone's opinion) and of the Merchants in particular to permit a possible rival.

Plus all the gangers would be gibbering about it. No sense of operational security, those morons.

This left the lesser powers in the Bay. He doubted Über and L33t had the competency to do anything like backing a new Tinker without something blowing up. Faultline had that strange obsession with Case-53's and had never really needed one, let alone shown interest in acquiring one, so he doubted it was her Crew. He had the Undersiders and the Travelers under his thumb and in his pocket respectively, so he KNEW it wasn't them.

The rest were not worth considering, as they either weren't led by or had a Parahuman, or they were neutral, like Parian.

The other options in his little list were equally as unlikely. No Tinker power, however weak, was ever able to be suppressed for longer than a couple of weeks, tops. If Riptide had been able to suppress it for that length of time, he or she would have gone into a Tinker Frenzy and been revealed to everyone and their grandmothers.

Additionally, potential backers in the Bay with the amount of capital and influence to fund a Tinker were very few in number, and he had secretly been monitoring their finances. None had moved the needed capital for the startup of a Tinker's workshop in the last few years. Thank you, Number Man. You may be an unmitigated boor but you were a useful bastard.

A shame he'd have to kill him one day.

The possibility that 'Riptide' was a rebrand wasn't _entirely_ out of the ballpark, but it was very unlikely. He had access to the Protectorate and PRT's system and no Tinker had left the Protectorate in the last five years. Independent Tinkers were so very scarce and usually either ran to Toybox or were quickly conscripted by either the PRT or the local villains. Just off the top of his head, he could only think of three _truly_ independent Tinkers in America, and one of them was Blasto!

No, this was very likely to be a new Trigger, one who had somehow gotten by both the watchdogs of the gangs and the PRT's Overwatch Initiative to get parts enough to build what was apparently a suit of armour and a weapon that could fire bullets of some sort that left no trace of their physical presence. They also had a certain amount of paranoia and a healthy dollop of luck to have not been captured by any cameras while out.

He could appreciate that sort of paranoia.

He used his own enough, after all.

Although Coil purchased laser rifles for his mercenaries to use from Pyrotechnical of Toybox, having a Tinker under his thumb would be _exceptionally_ useful. If he could draw whoever this Riptide character in with the Undersiders, it was all to the good. If not, he'd discover their identity and threaten them into submission. If that proved unworkable, he could use them as a test run for his soon-to-be Pet.

He had worked too hard to let an unknown variable interfere in his plans now. He had moles in every gang, he had an armed company of mercenaries and he had his power. He was also using Tattletale to discover the identities of all of the villains in the Bay. It was about 60% of the reason that he had forcefully recruited her.

Although her power of [Photographic Deduction] was useful, and his own power worked in a way that could bamboozle it so she couldn't use it to discover who he was, Tattletale was as hard to keep ahold of as an eel and more treacherous than a tiger you were forced to ride on. She had attempted to run over a dozen times since he'd first 'recruited' her, and, after that had failed, had tried at least twice that many times to kill him.

A couple of her attempts had come _far_ too close to succeeding for his liking.

He had considered using her as the test-run for the special cocktail of drugs he was preparing for his pet, but he had decided against it. He'd done a test run of that attempt already with a split timeline. The annoying girl had found some way to slash open her own wrists before the drugs could take effect, choosing death over enslavement.

It really was _irritating_ that she would not fully bend or break.

Well, even if he had to put a bullet in her one day, it wasn't as if her power was truly irreplaceable. If push came to shove, he'd fork out for another Thinker power from Cauldron and choose a random subordinate to gift it to. He would likely have to pay through the nose again too.

Cauldron had guaranteed a hands-off policy regarding his operation. That was _all_ they had guaranteed, that Brockton Bay would be overlooked by them and the organizations they controlled. So far, they had been good to their word. Any further aid would only be in the form of the Number Man's usual services and purchasing additional powers. He would, as Doctor Mother put it, either succeed by his cunning or fail by his incompetence.

He had several plans, all vetted by Accord as doable. The Boston Thinker had made several disparaging comments about the assumptions he made and called more than a couple of the plans 'downright egocentric and foolish' when he had read them, but they had passed his scrutiny, if barely.

Although the likelihood that his future-Pet's power would completely synergize with his power was low, the lure of possibly having a precog that could synergize with his powers to any degree would make him all but invincible. Add in Tattletale's reluctant help and he would rule Brockton Bay, by hook and by crook. First things first though…

"Mr. Pitter." He said into his intercom. "Please have a room arranged for holding a possible Tinker. No electronics other than what absolutely has to be there."

Once the man acknowledged his orders, Coil sat back and thought for a moment about how exactly to go about getting the Tinker into his hands. Several possibilities crossed his mind before he decided on one.

Beneath his mask, Coil smirked.


End file.
